She is so orange!
Her skin is pale,
And her hair is an off-white blonde,
But she...
Oh man, is she orange.
I smell the falling leaves through her smile,
And I can feel the carving tools sawing through pumpkin rinds,
Drawing Autumn sketches,
Doing what artists will do at this point in the year,
As If they were my own hands.
She will shout from the rooftops
With her yellow words
About her seasonal excitement,
Ending each proclamation with red exclamation marks.
She will shower me in plans
For Octobers and Novembers to come.
Walking me through festivals and unmade memories
With each new idea.
She is orange,
And for the next few months
Orange is my favorite colour.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
She is so orange!
Her skin is pale,
And her hair is an off-white blonde,
But she...
Oh man, is she orange.
I smell the falling leaves through her smile,
And I can feel the carving tools sawing through pumpkin rinds,
Drawing Autumn sketches,
Doing what artists will do at this point in the year,
As If they were my own hands.
She will shout from the rooftops
With her yellow words
About her seasonal excitement,
Ending each proclamation with red exclamation marks.
She will shower me in plans
For Octobers and Novembers to come.
Walking me through festivals and unmade memories
With each new idea.
She is orange,
And for the next few months
Orange is my favorite colour.