Fall

Fall to me is like the relative that you love, but hate to see

The cold- crisp breeze creeps on us

Through our windows while we sleep

The smells of cinnamon-apple pie is baking in the oven

Pumpkin spice lattes, oh how I love to hate that taste

And as the leaves change colors

And the beauty of the trees arise

It is inevitable that they will soon die

Yet we go on

We play in corn mazes and hay rack rides

Creepy haunted houses

September

October 

November 

Fly by

And soon enough autumn is gone

We are left with nothing but dormant trees and winter cold

Fall lasted as long as we could stand it

The beauty was great, but just like our darling great aunt Norma

We wave her goodbye without hesitation

Waiting for her to return 

To pinch our cheeks next year

Author's Note

This poem is totally free verse.