poem, fall.

What if fall lasted forever?
If my feet kept carrying me
through sixty-five degree days,
where the sun stays low in the sky
illuminating the world yellow,
crushing acorn tops and
colored leaves that finally gave up and let go.
What if that smell of
the earth changing states
resided indefinitely in my nostrils?
Pumpkin spiced candles to accent.
Cinnamon and apple.
Cider made of the same; beer, too.
What if I was moved to run
with my arms widespread
on a leaf-covered street… always?
Still with enough leaves suspended
in the air, applauding as I go.
Would it still hold the same magic?
Would I still want it to last forever?
Or is this, like most things in life,
and perhaps life itself,
so sweet because it doesn’t last?
Because the leaves do fall,
and we start over.


~ by Peyton Lea on December 13, 2011.

One Response to “poem, fall.”

  1. I am sitting here brushing the tears from my eyes.

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