The Fall

Leaves stick to the bottom of my shoes

The same wind, is blowing her perfume

From a distance

No more than an arms reach

The trees too tall ,I catch up and grab an apple each

The red Apple 

Fiery soul 

Eaten to the core 

Finding seeds 

I know 

Well plant the seeds 

They’ll grow and then 

This thought was interrupted 

By ten 

Fingers grabbing onto to mine 

Pullin me through the orchard 

With the help of wind 

Blowing us in the distance 

Hoping autotrophic is the only leave 

In existence