The Autumn

Autumn comes to my eyes, to parks, fields and rivers, while the leaves fall from the trees, as if nature began to paint the way back in yellow with her brush.

 Letting the breeze, the weather and the cold help it to finish her autumn paintings of leaves scattered randomly on the floor, dyeing it with hope green and whitish brown.

 With each color pointing out the final path to your warm hands,  where I will protect myself from the cold, like the skin of a coat.

The leaves of the trees continue to fall, and your memories also fall in my senses, to fall in love again with your kisses, your love phrases and the dark blue of your dress.

 Until I see you leaning on a tree surrounded by the leaves that paints the road again, waiting for me to reach your arms of smooth skin like silk, where I can avoid the cold wind, and I will quench this thirst for love that autumn brought to my soul, as if the autumn were cupid.