Those childhood Falls I miss 🍂
they were crisp and colourful 🍂
we went to our tiny cottage 🍂
raked up all the maple leaves 🍂
sister and I took turns jumping in 🍂
hunted for sticks on the trails 🍂
used them as our witch wands 🍂
watched the autumn sun set 🍂
small lake and tree reflections 🍂
dinner cooked in outdoor flames 🍂
a cozy campfire below stars 🍂
all in our red plaid bush jackets 🍂
bats flitting just above our heads 🍂
marshmallows on our wands 🍂
It was simple magic 🍂
rare these days 🍂
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry Is Not Like Yours
PoetryI just let myself start writing, opening a pathway for my emotions to spill out in words. It's a kind of therapy, you could say.
