Hey,
look outside.

Hey,
look really hard.

Hey,
look please look!

My dear old friend is back.

Fiery yet greying.
Tempestuous yet cold.
Roaring yet decaying…

Autumn is back.

Along with the cold breeze.
Along with the return to reality.
Along with that deer old ghost.

Dear to me,
Yet deadly.

So I write long letters to others.
So I write long poems to you.
So I write long diatribes to myself.

And keep you out of it.
Yet in my heart you remain.

Will you ever leave?
Yet you are long gone.

Never to return.
Never to write.
Never to behold.

Gone.
And yet you remain.

They call autumn the season of farewells.
They call autumn the beginning of the end.
I call it the return of my love.

Leaf after leaf,
the pretenses are bared.

Drop after drop,
the confessions rise.

Flutter after flutter,
hope flies off and back.

Back to the feeling I cannot shake off.
Back to the hopes I cannot bury down.
Back to the dreams I cannot forget.

But I heard they are burning down the forests,
But I heard they are throttling down the truth.
But I heard they are choking down the birds.

and the stars,
the stars.
they watch helplessly.

Twinkling
Burning
Suffocating

So far away,
Like you.

But I canot get a glimpse of your glimmering eyes.
But I cannot get a glimpse of your glittering soul.
But I cannot get a glimpse of your waning heart.

Nothing but silence.
Nothing but darkness.
Nothing but dust.

Do I need a deep autumn cleaning to make the ghost scram?