Sitting there - being amused on your phone,
Or even still half asleep,
He comes over to you,
Not the least bit cautious,
excited for any attention he can seek.
He tends to enjoy the company,
of anyone who will pet him,
Though is usually more careful of who he gains admiration from.
But this time,
I think my cat's adopted you.

I wanted to write a poem,
In which I captured your very essence in nature,
to personify all that you are,
by using the most gorgeous of things.
But instead I came to realize something.
You are the very essence of Autumn.
Your smile glows as brightly as the moon when all else appears dark,
It's a time of childlike awe and wonder,
a cheerful season whose very existence is based on fun.
The colorful leaves sigh your name as they float to the earth,
their dazzling colors shaping a happy atmosphere,
wishing to go with a bang of color,
the star of the show before winter rolls around.
You can hear the crowds murmuring their adoration for the trees,
For the light breezes you enjoy,
Before the snow begins to fall,
and the world turns cold.
And so I had wanted to write a poem,
one where I captured your very essence in nature,
by using the most gorgeous of creations.
But instead I came to find that,
You are the very essence of Autumn.

Even the falling of the leaves,
in their beautiful state of discoloration,
will soon wither away into nothingness.
This is not to say that their inevitable end is rooted in tragedy,
but rather to make way for the new.
Their end brings with it the cold winds,
the details wisps of frost,
and soon the gentle falling of flakes,
that dance across the sky.
It does not mean that when they die they will be forgotten.
No.
They always remain in our hearts.
Fall is a special time of year,
one many get excited over,
but whose to say it's more so than any other.
Winter pierces the heart,
with it's wind and frost,
than warms it again with cocoa and lights,
a time of year for family and those you most treasure.
Autumn may end quickly,
but it always goes in a fading hue of colors,
One that will never be forgotten.

We are of one Universe,
One Galaxy.
But is this really so?
I am a galaxy,
filled with stars and planets,
fragments of the past.
These atoms manifest,
becoming the makeup of my very soul.
You are your own galaxy,
shining stars,
new-forming planets,
along with the pre-created.
But isn't it impossible,
that galaxies would collide?
Thy are separate beings,
unable to understand the creation of another.
Each planet unique,
each star too distant to truely see.
No galaxies could come close to touching,
nor could even hope to completely understand another -
and yet the empathetic human heart,
that lays in the very core of the galaxy,
is not without some compassion,
and a desire to not be all alone,
in the universe we are trapped within.

Your eyes portray a childish gleam,
hopeful and bright,
as if excitement was second nature to you.
They cast diamonds of light,
holding traces of warmth.
The sky resides within you,
the stars twinkling back with each glance.
It's not as though that sky has never seen clouds in it's forecasting,
It's because of the rain that they gleam so brightly.
No sky could exist without it.
And yet these stars are a galaxy.
They hide the soul,
keeping stories upon stories on each new star.
Undiscovered and shining more brilliantly than the last.
It's a wonder to behold,
And I count myself lucky to have seen this treasure trove of stars.

As a kid I wanted to bike,
to be able to skate,
I wanted to be active,
and keep up with my athletic cousins,
our only friends growing up.
But I was not made to endure such labors.
In fact,
I'd sooner give up.
Strange for someone as stubborn as me.
I never learned how to ride a bike after falling off one too many times.
I couldn't skate after needing to hold tightly onto anything I could grasp.
After frightening roller coaster rides when I was little,
I soon gave that up as well.
I never was a thrill seeker.
And yet here I stand.
After failing time and again when I was little,
I soon accepted I just can't cartwheel.
And yet with achy elbows,
and everything else that plummeted to the floor,
only to rather become a roll,
here I go again.
Trying to do a cartwheel.
Just once more.

Family is a rose.
It's scent and language so sweet,
but having dangerous thorns when you poke it just right.
Family is the wind,
A comforting gentle breeze with the capability of a tornado.
It is a long day in the snow,
Where it's comforting and beautiful,
But can turn to frostbite if you stay too long.
It's a long swim,
when the water feels just right,
But you shrivel up after a while.
Family can be a bittersweet thing.