Love Letter to Autumn

Pondered on a love letter

To my favourite season

And wondered how would it manifest,

In the cold, when I prey it’s freezing.

The precise nature of stringing the right words

Makes my skin sizzle

So I wait in the dark,

Look out the window, lovingly into the drizzle.

This is a love letter to orange light,

To the sharp, blade like breeze

A celebration pre ritual

For the day when the year leaves.

In the imminent weeks

The front facing windows shall turn brown

How elegant is their decay

The leaves experience, like us, their breakdown.

I love the death of everything

But I do not endeavour to appear sadistic.

It must be respected

And so I am joyful, but not altruistic.

These words write themselves

I could write them forever,

Scrawling in verse that would not change their mortality

Being as free as a bird, myself not ever.

Oh I love it so,

How do I begin to express my gratitude?

Maybe I should plunge myself into the soil

This’ll give me time to brood.

Give it time and it’ll be wonderful,

Lines that’ll be at one with nature

And I’ll return to my window,

Now able to view it as portraiture.

Crawling out of the ground,

The spirit was born where it’s misty and warm

She had the longest hair which, when on the ground, tangled

And begin to scream in a storm, thus was spun, Autumn.