For centuries the winds lift up the leaves that lie beneath my pale toes in the midst of autumn. The dust that they become, the lifeless specs of crumbs, I breathe. The river that flows behind the tree supporting my back calls my name. The mint color of the water is almost soothing to the touch of my fingers. But it doesn't compare to the feel of your lips amongst my skin. What a feeling. A feeling I'll never forget. On stormy nights and half dead days I think of you and my weather clears up. Because it brings me back to the days in which December hatched our love. The days that it would rain and it was cold but your skin kept mine warm. The nights we ran naked in my father's hay fields and made shining love to the smoothness of the moons yellow toned light. We shined so much darling, that the sun never wanted to rise, on that long December night. Your skin always smelled like the pumpkin pie my mother baked on Thursdays, and mine like the sweet peach marmalade your mother saved you say. And the wind tonight had the courtesy to swoosh both into my nostrils, and I can't help but feel love, because for centuries the wind keeps the leaves all to itself, and for many more I'll keep you close.