She tasted like apple cider,
smelled like cinnamon and campfire smoke,
words warm and cold she spoke,
but i knew i could never provide her,
for she moved to much like a spider,
red, oranges and yellows she wore as a cloak,
colors so bright and beautiful i could choke
listening to the birds as i lay beside her.
though autumn never lasted long,
getting too cold far too fast,
leaving me alone to lis...