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Rice  gruel
did   wet  the
potato   crisp.


Dried  chili powder
was  mixed   with
flattened  rice
powder  to
bring   tears   in  a
fancy  dress competitive
child's  eyes.
Love  purely  to  yourself not
just  potato chips.
Matteo Palermo Dec 2018
I don’t care if the sun doesn’t rise.
If the snow falls and doesn’t melt
Just be there
The cold crisp air has made our petals fragile.
We will crumble from the slightest touch
Just be there
When there is nothing left
All I ask is to replant my seeds
So I can grow again
Elizabeth Oct 2018
It was fall now and something fell from the sky and atop my head it sat. I figured it be something of green leaves or the tears from a clouds uncertainty. The water lay in cracks deep underneath the piles of autumn leaves over sidewalks where children played games of hopscotch and three pile. There was something of fall when things grew old and shriveled that made me realize the meaning of old love, there was something in the crisp air that let me feel like a new beginning. The leaves told me it was time to start anew.
The best season of them all
Kaeli Hearn Sep 2018
As the air transforms the summer sun into a crisp, chilled orange canvas, the leaves begin to transform.

They grow older as their complexions fade into all the shades of autumn. The clouds begin to overshadow the sun’s gleam, yet it is friendly.

The air shifts – chilled, crisp, breezed. The vibrant tints of red, orange, yellow and brown paint cities, towns and homes.

An eerie, yet cozy fog drips down from the sky and rests upon the mountain tops. The fire begins to burn and ***** warming hands and souls alike.

Although the leaves begin to wilt, there is soft beauty in the dying. The crunch of the fallen leaves being changing seasons, moving on and starting afresh.

There is a calm amber, colored, brisk, changing, vivid calmness to Autumn.

As the leaves begin to fall, hearts change, souls soften and eyes get a gleam brighter to welcome this new season.
Andrew Aug 2018
Hanging on by just a thread,
The last two left.
"Don't go," she sighs,
but we know my stem only grows more frail.
As the crisp breeze envelops my body, I begin to feel myself detach.


I don't want to leave her.
Jessie Schwartz Feb 2018
Autumn…by Jessie 9/05

Autumn, the days visit shortly and the earth sighs
The winds tide changes dropping from the north
Crisp; clean, awakening

Leaves rustle high, amongst the outstretched arms of each branch
One last dance, then in an exhausted state, drops
Carried ever so gently on whispered winds

A blanket of colors tucks in the ground
Eclectic tapestry, colors and shapes
Shuffled feet reweaving

Cinnamon smells and autumn leaves, permeate the air
Aromas lure forgotten times
Innocent and pure
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
Winterfly of moonlit dreams.
With wisps of smoke, and coiling wings.
Snow drop falls.
On crisp brown leaves.
At the snap of a twig,
You rise from ash to sea of stars.
The sunlight dances on the fresh coat of ice.
Based on a lucid dream I had as a Winterbutterfly.
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