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.
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