The vibrant colours when you look around
the cold wind that your face will meet,
when you step outside and hear the sound
of fallen leaves crunching 'neath your feet.
These are the things that remind me of fall
just like the cry of a loon,
beautiful and harsh is their call
like a night with both wind and moon.
How could this be a time of death
with smells tantalizing and true?
It's getting cold, summer's last breath
and winter will bring something new.
Author's note: This poem was written when I was 15 years old. It's rudimentary but speaks to my current style of writing. When I stumbled upon it, I thought it should live somewhere other than a file box in my closet. I also don't know how a smell can be tantalizing and true.
About the Creator
Bugsy Watts
Got bit by the writing bug.
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