Autumn

Autumn

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Her name was Autumn.

She had long locks of fiery-red hair.

I think she was always destined to love the fall season.

And I can promise you. She did.


There was something about the crispness of autumn air that she absolutely adored.

She would walk through the forest, trees changing from green to yellow to amber.

She would go out of her way to step on extra-crunchy leaves

And she would radiate happiness into the void.


She liked to go to our local farm and pick blackberries.

She would hide behind the shrubbery, sneaking bites into her mouth.

I’d look over at her mauve-stained lips, and she’d meet my eyes.

The corners of her mouth slowly upturned. Gleaming.


She loved

The musky-sweet smell of campfire that rose into the sky as wisps of smoke

And

Wearing chunky sweaters with sleeves far too long for her dainty arms

And

Burning spiced candles while cuddled up on the couch under a thick quilted blanket

And

Drinking hot apple cider with her pumpkin-shaped mug

And

…..


Every fall time, I imagine her

Sitting at the bottom of our stairs

Putting on her brown leather boots

Bundled up, prepping for the cold

Looking so delighted


She was as flawed as anyone else.

But I don’t want to taint her image.

So I look back only at our happy memories.

And I live on for her.


I used to hate the fall time. Now it’s my favorite time of the year.

Every October, I walk through the forest

On our normal route.

I go out of my way to step on an extra-crunchy leaf

Just for her.


PoemMarissa Martin