Fall flings seem to be just as bad as Summer
Although more colorful and less hotter
Instead of lazy days
There's frantic afternoons
Filled with fallen Aspen leaves, bare too soon
He'll smell of October
And you, still of June
Stuck in the glory of how easily you've been wooed
And your heart skips a beat at the things you don't know
Your lips skip a vowel at letters beginning to weave
His fingertips brush against skin still un-kissed
Blurry eyes with magical wishes un-wished
And you'll stay at home and watch the gold of your memories fade thin
Because he'll be off somewhere falling to some kind of sin
Still, I try to remember the feelings I have now
Because soon, I'll feel nothing, somewhere, somehow