You are painted autumn
Life comes to you to rest.
You are silk before the sting of winter. You are the gold of leaves,
the mahogany of conkers
but your body does not litter pavements.
Sometimes it stands tall, and still, roots crawled so far down into the dirt I can
taste Eden on your tongue.
Sometimes you sway to the howl of the wind
and the buzzing of man made things,
either way you are a resting place
for tired creatures.
Creatures that have worked all year long
& have ridden the waves of the seasons-
who have spent all spring nurturing others,
themselves, ideas & all summer being too distracted by long, colorful sunsets
You are warm and inviting – your eyes a
fireplace I want to lay in front of.
I want to wrap your smile around my neck
& know what it is to be loved without bites,
to be kissed without bruises.