the breeze that blew the leaves away; no, I could not even sigh, thinking of what I missed that day; there could have been the misty air filled with fragrance I have never smelt, the maidens kerchief she dropped; wanting to be picked up by the village lad, who looked at her every day, as she passed by the bakers way; their eyes met a few times but did not have the courage to spell forth, friendships broken again, by that wind; that blew the kerchief away: the designs covered with autumn leaves that lay one by one like heavy sheaves, I did take that road one day to see it stepped on, ruffled beyond its days, since no one did or could pick it up, I picked it up and laid it on the bakers way! Came by the lad the same morning; found the kerchief, fragrance of the yellow and autumn woods, he turned to see the maiden stare wondering how he found her kerchief there!

I walked away to write the new brewing romance of the day....