Aesthetically,
warm my heart
as if you are my cup
in the morning,
pressed against my chest
as I stare at shimmering, damp leaves.
They lay on the ground,
not urbane
or with your type of certain appeal.
Listless, and unappreciated for the season of death.
I marvel at such beauty;
Rays of sun between branches of trees....
It has since been raining,
and the aesthetic influence
of afflicted eyes and a drawn, aging face
said there was nothing warm
or comforting
about Autumn...
or how I choose to state an
out of context arrangement of words
piled on each other
as the leaves compacted under my heavy, awkward rain boots every day.
Under is all,
I know there's something inspiring.
An aesthetically proven chance
to mention a refrain.
The calmer, clearer meaning
to my heartfelt behavior.
Something lovely, without annoyance.
He asked if there was something I was sad about this October.
I can finally give an absolutely breath taking answer:
You my dear. Only you.
