Thunderstorm, thunderstorm, and the air is now cold when it was just warm. Golden flavor upon the atmosphere with apple trees to be swarmed! Oh, how fall is upon us as Friday night lights make the world bright.

Kicks through field goals just to make field goals as I try to make warm my brown nose, yet the wind still blows as if the sky was progressing to drop cold snow but I forgot my gloves back home and have no will to return to that barren place. It's true I'd rather stay here in Chicago where the wind hurts my face, contradictory you say?

To be warm is my greatest treasure surrounded by the candlelight, to be held is my greatest pleasure but the cold makes me eager to fight because a sky so grey makes it harder to pray. Dark nights make it easy to keep others at bay, but how could a season so beautiful make me feel this way?

Like the leaves I am disconnected from the trees I call base. Falling through time living only in my mind, my head, gracefully coming to a standstill, a place to rest called my bed. A place where I can relax and be protected from the wind, a place where others aren't welcome, it is only my time to spend. Like money, all the green is gone.

Like honey, Autumn brings about a new song, and that is one of peace and release. I feel like Thanksgiving itself, alone sitting so comfortable in my fleece, with the aches and pains that the season brings about in my knees, but enough complaining because fall time is here to stay, only thing you can do is stay warm while praying for that day.