Fall - By Romatype


A subtle drift in the leaves announces that a change is soon,
not far in the near distance.
Glancing at the escarpment,
I saw what was the infamous impending doom of storm ahead.
The clouds forming together a tight bond,
a marriage of destruction that waited.
The calmness beneath gave riddance to the doubts
that were pure and true like the open, countryside.
Soon October came and left,
and the darkness swooping in,
circling my dearest fears, left me staring.
Her eyes piercing lightning as the storm came closer
evading the calmness beneath,
and inviting the doomness.
It’s no longer October any longer,
and the leaves are gone and replaced by her rigid frost.
She has no longing for comfort, for warmth.
The ground starts to freeze,
and I begin to slip,
loosing balance, and posture.
Her eyes aren’t brown;
they are gray, dull and low.
My body begins to quiver as the temperature drops,
and my bottomless glass emerges.
I try to prepare for the shelling that invades,
grasping at anything that will save me,
protect me, preserve me.
Self-preservation is furtherest from imminent,
and its been two years since my last tour,
but I can’t avoid it.
I duck but it lowers,
I run but she speeds up.
Her confidence rising, overwhelming,
and it starts to penetrate,
like a cobra striking its prey.
Its no longer a thought, an image,
but its reality, damning me.
It’s December, the calming after the storm.
There’s debris and evidence of her wrath, everywhere.
Her darkness still stalking and haunting me,
like a soldier after his war. It’s December now.

- Written by: Romatype

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