the crisp air,
the wear and tear
on autumn leaves
by the autumn breeze.
the chill on my spine
that I can't seem to find
anywhere but here.
it's weird the way I can't place it,
I can't erase it from my brain.
the way I'm pained to quantify the scene.
a golden masterpiece.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 10:31 PM UTC
the crisp air,
the wear and tear
on autumn leaves
by the autumn breeze.
the chill on my spine
that I can't seem to find
anywhere but here.
it's weird the way I can't place it,
I can't erase it from my brain.
the way I'm pained to quantify the scene.
a golden masterpiece.
