Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
let's meet on spring,
when everything else of me is alive.
but when the season of autumn appears,
will you also come and arrive?
when everything else of me is wilting,
will you also come and arrive?
jǫrð 4d
Crimson rivers ran on my skin
And within, an ache
Resembled the itch of death
I had met in passing

Weeping in shadows
I locked the door and
When I called his name
He was delivered into my hands

He was the springtime
You felt inside of me
Born to autumn
His father's favorite season
History: Baldr and the Misteltoe
sarah 5d
there is something comforting about september
as the summer ends I always end up feeling down
wishing for one more sunny day
but they won't last
and as I'm about to just stay in bed
hide away from the upcoming storms

then it happens

I forget about it every year
almost like an unforeseen welcome
yet an undoubtedly familiar one
as the winds ramp up
as the rain sets in
the hot tea suddenly becomes a source of warmth
and it happens
all over again
the warmth of fall
it scoops me up from below
twirls its way up from my feet
it falls around my neck
a warm and gentle hug
and so another year begins
it feels that way to me at least
it's a reset

because when the trees make their own rainbows
I must take another look
admiring the beauty of it all
admiring the beauty of fall
Fall colours
the russet reds and yellow browns
of Summer's faded hand me downs
Autumn is the second sister
ChinHooi Ng Sep 17
Standing on the overpass
i stop to look away
the endless stream of cars
sprinting from under my feet
dusky yellowish lights
start to illuminate the night
the city is beautiful at this time
yes it sure is
as the autumn winds blow
coolness grows
the heart feels barren
for no reason though
stars in the sky
twinkle once in a while
each one is an unknown dream
each one is too far away
a drop of rain fell from thereabouts
i saw it so i reach out
it touches my cheek
slips out of the corner of my eye
then in a trice
It floods the cityscape.
News from the oak tree
she sent a brown envelope
to say it's Autumn
An Autumn breeze
is not the flighty winsome tease she was in Spring
she has experience to bring and is more certain
collecting up the fallen leaves
to weave them through October's curtain
I’ve been told by a friend to wait here.
As long as I stay here, you’ll be back past five o'clock.
I’ve waited—you came and opened the door.
It’s true; now I will dedicate my nine lives to you.
"She drinks her tea by midnight and lulls herself to sleep. You should waggle your tail and lie beside her. Every day except for Saturday." My friend laughed rigorously when she finished that statement.
"Why can’t I play with her every Saturday? I asked her, trying to grasp her evading eyes.
"Just because," she shrugged and tried to climb the tree.
"Wait!" I hissed, but she’s nowhere to be found now.
I did everything she told me to do. Eat my food past lunch, play with my worn-out toy, and wait for her to be home.
At the exact moment the cruel sun rose and the light hit my body, I waggled my tail and lied beside her. Unfortunately, I forgot it was Saturday today.
I called her name, distinctively meowing in a weird manner. I cackled slightly; she wouldn’t understand. Biting slowly with her calloused hands and licking the side of her face, she still won’t wake up.
And I meowed until there was no sound left of me. My dear Celia, wake up, for you have to give me food now.
You still need to bathe me and play with me at the park. We’ll still wait for the night to come and watch TV.
Oh, Celia, I’d still spend my nine lives with you. Where have you been since I slept last night?
I’d still wait for you here at the table, near the window. Where the trees dance the delicacy of their sickening leaves. Oh, how we both hated the crispness of those brown leaves.
Oh, how you knew how much I hate autumn and how much I undoubtedly love the breeze of winter. The screeching of the winds and the snow falling onto the ground, where we both scrutinize its unique aspect. We were the same.
How you were covered in snowdrops, and you’d throw me inside the snowpack. I’ll hiss, and you’ll laugh.
"I told you not to play with her every Saturday," my friend whispered, almost with a faint cry. There was a hint of longing in her voice.
"You haven’t told me the answer, Ong."
"She grieves in her dreams, my friend. He visits every Saturday, spends a day with her, and goes home at exactly midnight. She’ll wake up tomorrow, bud," she answered in agony.
Who's he? " I turned to her, but she vanished once again.
Celia, I will love you for the rest of my nine lives. I’ll wait for you tomorrow. It’s okay to grieve for now.
I’d still wait for you here at the table, even though it’s autumn. We both got to accept that winter is already over.
It’s my first life with you in autumn.
I haven't written for a month, and this is what came to me today: I have been struggling to find myself lately, but I found myself falling in love with cats. And how badly I want to take care of them. Unfortunately, my mom doesn’t want to own a cat. It’s fine. I’m still in my 20s. I’m young; soon enough, I’ll be able to take care of a cat.
And I’ll love them for the rest of their nine lives.
In another universe, I have a cat named Yang.
Also, I’d like to thank this song for giving me an idea.
Song on the Beach: Arcade Fire and Owen Pallett

Thank you for reading! :)
Don Bouchard Sep 6
Autumnal Wanderings

Summer's heat leaves us wilted,
Potted tomatoes drying on the deck.
Water helps, and evening's shade
Reminds us of the coming dread.

Ash trees drop late summer's shed;
Yellow leaves litter grass now lost;
Dog days oppress us as we yawn,
Ennui of heat turns our desire to frost.

We are not content at summers' turning fall;
We miss the verdant greens of spring;
We dread the snow, the wintry cold;
No longer young, we fight our growing old.
One of the longest summers of 90 plus degrees each day is coming to an end. Mentally, I am flirting with the desire for frost.
When the weather changes
and it's finally September
I feel in love.
When the breeze is cool
everything is better
I feel in love.
When I can wear a beret or
don a favorite coat
I feel in love.
& when I sit down and read
something that you wrote
I feel in love
Next page