Serene whispers call me in fall,
telling me it's time for fallen flowers, dried lips, parched throats cured by an often coffee and hushed breezes against our hair.
The keenness to cherish the sight of crimson sunsets,
to hear the hymns of the rustling pines, the chilly murmuring morning air and the rain-fed grey skies.
When auntumn hid itself and winter said hello, time had come to feel threaded wool on our skin and wintry days ticked off of our year's list.
Crawling out of our oblivion, only to grasp that another year just sped by.
Some gingerbread cookies, a few cups of hot chocolate, one fine Christmas morning, and some extra slothful days was all it took for us to be back in the whirlpools of our next ride on a three-hundred and sixty-five day rollercoaster.
