The Fall

The air grows cooler by the day

Like she did.

I walked outside to greet the morning

Air, and was met by a chill breeze

(I had hoped to find the August heat).

That which I cursed for tightening my lungs

And reddening my face.

I was last to learn the news:

August packed her bags,

In a hurry to be anywhere but here.

I found the note she left.

"Dress warm. The time has come that I must go."

I didn't read it until after the fact.

I should have held her warmly

And kissed her goodbye.

Instead, I shied from her radiant rays.

Like a coward, in the shade

In which I chose to stay.

What a fool I have been

To spend her last days here hidden away.

The color in my cheeks has since faded.

So here I stand, her words in my hand,

and my short-sleeved shirt, billowing;

A sail in the brutal wind

I was not prepared for.

Yet still, my ship's anchor won't lift.

I am stuck in the sand,

And August is too far gone.

And so I wait, daydreaming about her dense air,

That which made it hard to breathe,

And her sweet scent

That made me want to, anyway.

I reminisce, now, on her light

That left me blind and teary eyed,

And kissed my skin golden.

Her warmth has always been enough.

I knew in July that August would be brief,

But I didn't expect her absence

To be so cold.

I wasn't ready for the fall.