A jazz melody in the shape of fall.

There's a type of hushed pre-excitement that comes with fall

Its what's growing

That pushes the leaves off the trees

And turns them that red or yellow colour

There's a crisp wind that takes steps

As if following a jazz pattern

And swirls for dramatic effect.

It responds to the deep crackle of brass

And the smooth wine-stained melody of those crooners

who tip my hat back over my ears

There's an urge to smell cinnamon in the air

And perhaps that's the reason I light 3 candles simultaneously

And in the escaping warmth

There's a romantic melancholy

That trips you inside

And grips you with the need to be swarmed

By warm fabrics and comforting aromas

Suddenly there's love hiding between jacket pockets, connecting two hands,

Snuck inside one glove

A secret cloaked in protection

Like how I feel when I can hear the wind growling against the walls outside

Each morning gets cozier

Each night gets colder

Making you link arms with the someone you walk beside

Because why would you waste each other's warmth

I'm struck by a sudden nostalgia for a past that I thought was present

For a past I thought I detested

And yet some part of me yearns for that tail end of my childhood again

Relishing in the fact I made it out

Delighting in the film-stained memories

Making the cringing stories more funny than embarrassing

Filling yourself with warmth at your own innocence

Proving you have indeed grown like everyone has been telling you

House parties where you sit on a bed and want to lean in to kiss someone but the idea that you want to

Is fulfilling enough

You dont even have to reach over and do it

You can go home and dream of the thought

That you can find those warm feelings within you again

Because some part of you thought they might have been taken with the wind

But a faint memory in the shape of a pig in a tree

Brings you back

And reminds you

You've always had this warmth

You're just now finding it again.