The Last Autumn...

Last autumn seemed different,

With you being here to hold my hands

As we would walk down the lanes and alleys,

Scattered with ochre leaves

And the smell of dried woods.

The winds would whisper tales of love,

Woven by the dance of butterflies over the dewy tulip blossoms,

In the land, where they came from.

And the leaves would quiver in ecstasy.

With new desires cruising in their old veins,

They would dream of setting sail into the far off lands...

Unfamiliar.

Unchartered.

From where there would be no return. 

The last autumn was different,

With you and your smile, full of warmth

Just like the afternoon sun, melting into the foggy horizon.

And I would gaze into your eyes,

Dark as the night sky...

Where the stars ink their own poetry

In pristine light of the moon.

Where the clouds create psychedelic dreams

Of Love, passion and something more.....

Your lips would create sonnets for me,

Whispering them, like sweet nothings...

Adorning my soul with your epithets.

And like the wildflowers beneath our feet,

Blushing in the flirtatious touch of the wind...

I would blush, too, like a little girl in her first Love.

With you and me,

And Love filling the hollow skies and shadowed boulevards,

Last autumn was different. 

Its November again,

And here I am, waiting for you,

Like the leaves wait to be carried away...

Drenched in dew drops,  into the land of their fairytales.

Like the moon waits for the sun, to kiss the horizon goodbye,

So that She can catch a glimpse of Him, before Her lonely night begins.

Waiting to walk down those lanes, hand in hand, once again

Finding our own little home within each other,

As the birds sing their homecoming songs.

Its autumn, again,

And yet, with you beside me,

Last autumn was different...