It was now November, and every step I took was another leaf being crushed under boots made of
leather.
Blue skies traded in for gray overcast- those beautiful, purple sunsets at four P.M.
I used to love the fall.
My basic, basic self guzzling pumpkin spice lattes and hot chocolate depending on the day.

We carved pumpkins on weekends,
Sat bonfire side some nights
But felt the chill all days of the week.
I now realize it was just me.

Because you always remembered your scarf, and last I checked it was always you setting the tinder to
flame during those bonfires.

I brought the marshmallows.

But I guess the combination of sweet and burning made for charred sugar. A kerosene tongue.

You left me by the fireside that Autumn.
It wasn't until the seasons changed that I saw everything in gray.
Because you were my color on a dark fall afternoon.
I was convinced every leaf painted yellow and orange and red was warm, inviting, a sign of new life
that Spring would soon return.

I now realize that I am seeing gray for different reasons.
The bonfire's coals stopped burning.
There is nothing left but ashes.

I look up at the world again, and the color has now returned.
You are painted yellow, and orange and red.
You are no longer warm and inviting.

I saw Autumn and thought of it as change.
I did not realize that fall was the beginning of winter, where life seems cold, dark and uninviting.
I had forgotten spring.
We must see the snow before saplings can bloom.
I cast a glance to the sky.
The hues of Autumn are now gone.

I am sitting by the fireside; burning, alive and warm.
I am comfortable, and it is winter.
You were my Autumn, and now you are gone.
I see fire now painted yellow, and orange and red.
My sweet, sweet kerosene tongue tasting marshmallows and roasted chestnuts.
I look outside.
The seasons have changed.