my autumn comes in little baskets, carefully woven, and decorated with her flowers. she haunts me every november, with silk skies laced with roses, with gifts stitched with summer's leaves. slowly, so meticulously, she paints my skin with ginger kisses; her taste of sweet spice still dancing on my lips.

my roses sit patiently, sleeping under summer's touch... they lay to rest under her precious moon. though she will soon leave, come winter, to travel far west and wide amongst the mountains. may she be welcomed with the soft kiss of snow? or will the gods defy her, topple their mountains upon her arrival, burying her universe?

i fester in my ruined thoughts, i fester in my wilting flowers.