Embers, the past in embers and the leaves full of life now withered.
Fall, when the world gets covered in a crust of caramilsed sugar and cinnamon.
Where every leaf is a flower. The last breath, the last burst of life, natures crescendo.
So why don't you, in the orange red cascade of beautiful decay. Make up your mind and move in with me. I would love to see those moving boxes lying in the livingroom for days, the floor to ceiling windows, the yard full of leaves, mountains of boxes from