In the context of things unknown the leaves have fallen far into these doubts roads I travelled on summer's humid days now pinpricked with touches of gold wheels blast past, and the remnants of this past year rustle, there is a mystery in the coolness of this air will winter be one we can still bear?
In the context of things known, I leave memories of all our growth under the shade of baring branches as days go by, they'll be buried under the delicacies of fall until next year, when the burden of the snow has shifted their weight I'll be back to bury more