The Season

The Season

One morning… I woke up to the all too familiar 

crisp fall air creeping through the cracks in my window 

And it whispered softly… “wake up”... 

I saw your face in a dream 

weary and gentle 

autumn rain 

wet leaves clinging––

to bright green grass 

there was a garden 

speckled with white flowers 

little bells singing 

I took it as a sign 

that I was meant to care 

to bleed into you

colors of fall 

to cry––

until I am swimming 

in lukewarm water 

it will almost feel like home