Poetry Series: Her Name is Autumn

Sometimes she would cry all alone,

Sometimes she would laugh and her voice would fill the room.

At times she'd frown, pout and break things.

Sometimes her eyes would sparkle with delight.

What a complicated Thing.

She was a mixture of Summer's adventure,

And Winter's treachery.

She was the freshness of a serene spring day.

Her name was..

She was Autumn.

Autumn is a mixture of surprise and excitement.

Of innocence and disaster.

And she would wonder, deeply,

About the reason people abided by the rules.

Determined, her fun ripping reality apart.

A constant daily dose of dangerous sarcasm,

Of untimely giggles,

Of unruly hair strands that refuse to stay tucked behind her soft ears.

And she would pull back,

If she felt her self sink deeper.

And she would speak softly,

If he didn’t know how to treat her.

She will be somebody,

Of importance when he touches her.

And if she were to click her heels,

And walk in strides down an empty hallway,

She would make sure she was recognized,

And followed to the success stairway.

And if it was autumn we needed, autumn we would call..

And if we wanted distinction, her Traits into our lives would fall.

Step by step, transforming all.

Love,

Fearless