Naseehaa Bacchus

 

The crisp air stirs through the trees  

While he whispers his secrets in her ear 

 

She may not say much  

But her rosy cheeks do  

 

Their shared glass of Maple Bourbon 

tastes better around the bonfire’s blaze 

 

As she gazes into his hazel eyes  

that warms more than just the depths of her soul  

 

She comes to realize 

The leaves are not the only thing falling this season