Today the sun will show but it’s getting cold, ruining conversation.
The trees, they get to lose their leaves.
I envy them with every forecast.
The wind gets in and burns the skin like a battleground super ninja.

I’ve heard nothing but good things.
I bet we probably like the same things.

I’ll rake your leaves.

The ground is getting cold, green is letting go, gathering lost attention.
And when the words they seem to mean nothing other than gusts of wind and…
What’s missed outweighs the risks for this, causing problems with the smallest of actions.

I’ve heard nothing but good things.
I bet we probably like the same things.

I’ll rake your leaves.