smell of fall.

Rusty chairs and the glaring glances
Of the moon. These nights are
Turning cold. And the air smells
Of the coming winter. The song plays
On the old radio. Can I get you some tea?

You can sit and enjoy this view
Of the sky. It’s clear and trusting.

Put your feet up. Relax your mind.
There is a change. It is destined
With stories of past and dreams
Of tomorrow.

Familiar thoughts and careless hair
Dance in the wind.
And do not think too deep.
The tea will get cold.