To Autumn

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Deep, intense snowstorms of colour,

Piercing, striking canary yellows against

Burning, charred reds, falling, falling,

Floating past cheeks. Strands of

Hair picked up, a complex waltz,

As new leaves hit the ground.

Black tarmac under a protective, heavy sky,

Leaf-flecked roads, shocks of

Light, colour.

Thick jumpers sit against softly

Collared shirts, corners against rounded edges,

Knitted sleeves flush pale arms.

The day grows dark, grainy,

Disintegrating into a painter's palate,

A blurry photograph of streaming pinks,

Blues, yellows, brights, colds,

Darks in the dimming sky.

Night falls, a rose petal,

Quickly, secretly, all at once,

Filled with anticipation

Of winter celebrations,

Excitement of summer lingering in a mist.

Streaks swallowed by receding rays,

Dying trees are but silhouettes.

Warm drinks interlocked in cold fingers,

Freezing lips against steam,

Cheeks, rosebuds in chilled air,

As piles of colour collect in edges of streets.


~ ~ ~

Hey loves! I wrote this poem a few weeks ago for a class, and I don't hate it? Anyway, I wanted to make it a descriptive poem about what is easily my favourite time of year, which is rapidly approaching.

As ever, your comments mean the world to me, so please take the time to leave a little something, whether that be something you liked, or a criticism, or a suggestion! I'd love to improve my writing, so everything you comment helps lots!

Hope all's well with you, and you look after yourself and have a wonderful day/night!

~Anna

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