• porscheota 10w

    Remembering Fall

    I remember the fall when I was young
    The winds changed direction
    The crops stood tall in the fields
    The deep green color gone
    Turned to brown, dying
    The crops harvested furiously
    Leaving nothing but the black dirt
    To survive through a cold winter
    The smell of burnt wood
    Rising from the flue of every house
    Dead leaves piled
    Lit on fire for their disposal
    It was always a long winter
    And this is always how it started