By: Rodolfo Perez
You lift your lungs far above the sky,
And twirl so gently, a silent cry.
There is beauty in your cold breath.
As it gives me such comfort,
I must confess.
Your warm trios or red, yellow and orange,
Keep me company from the cold, faded, core bench.
I feel your embrace every fortnight,
And I only hope,
You can feel mine too.
I love you autumn,
Even when you’re dying.