Fall, Leaves, Fall.

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

Emily Brontë


Try as I might the fall brings a felt memory chill into the bones. An unwillingness. Thankful then of the warmth of colour that comes with it, which warms the heart. Warmer still with a warm hand to hold. Hot chocolate til then.