In this quiet coordinate of time and space, I can hear the distant rustles of an early Fall. That achingly beautiful slow death of summer when the sky almost mirrors the earth. The trees, all red and brown…putting the blossoms of spring to shame. Always, as September ends…a new spell begins. And like a music, the years behind danced in seasons…but not today. I will not beg for a winter…nor wait for another sun. I became the Autumn that September I had you. And like all celestials, you went your way. Like a comet, your Hello was a Goodbye. But I will always have you, like I will always have Fall. It is where I live the pain…it is where I will truly live. While my days remain and my nights appear, while I give the people I love all my living years. It is in my quiet dreams, awake or not, that I will live our moments in an endless replay. We will always have Fall and my Autumn is here.