Crunching vibrancy under my knee-high boots, scarves come loose from diving into piles of memories, undeniable and resolute.
Ember orange, wood fire brown, and Hufflepuff yellow, all wrapped in a pretty bow, delivered in a season not so mellow.
Nobody can fathom the spices in my pumpkin seeds, hair falling just below our shoulders, shielding us from the breeze's needs.
Harry Potter on repeat, fuzzy socks embracing our toes, what a treat.
Cuddled together, secret recipe in our cups, kisses that warm us, so grown up.
Fall, a tall, peculiar season for us all.
Character: Melony (with heavy, sleep-deprived eyes)
This season came more than once a year, merging with everything she defined herself as. An oddly tall girl, draped in distinct colors year-round, with echoes of fall on her TV screen.
"I'll sleep and not pen another poem," she thought, letting go of these months.
Christmas was everyone's favorite, yet the memories didn't reside in presents, but in candy and costumes, people masking themselves for a few months. No feverish cold or scorching heat, just a cool breeze.
Fall, perfect in every single way.
So yes, at night, with bags under her eyes, she could find contentment in her recollections of him. The Fall boy. The thoughtful boy. The young man. DNA preserved in memories, a tender kiss during a lengthy Harry Potter movie. That kiss on a bean bag still lingered.
Yes, a poem should suffice for now.
YOU ARE READING
Uneven Edges
PoesiaThis imperfect poetry was written in bouts of needs of words. This story follows Melony and her need for poetry to get through some of her hardest truths. The healing that takes from a series of poems that could save her.
