To say I miss you more than Autumn each year is an understatement.
Nothing compares to our lengthy conversations bathed in orange and gold, joking about how we'd look old.
Leaves in our hair without a care. Feeling the crisp cool air fill our lungs, like our words fluttering into the sun.
Now that you're gone Autumn has a different meaning, all good things must come to an end, but life goes on.
You were my lantern then, but now the golden leaves guide me in the dark.
I still sit in the golden hue watching the leaves dance in the breeze wondering if it's you.