Joseph Fales

 

The colors on the ground mimic those of a fire, 

Orange, red, auburn, scarlet, and the color of the sun in the evening. 

The crisp wind forces these leaves and the seasons from whence they came out. 

The crisp wind brings with it the colder days and the earlier nights.  

The smell of pumpkin and hay, 

The taste of apple cider and spiced rum, 

The sounds of crunching leaves and birds late for migration. 

The pain of knowing that you were taken from your two sons, 

The sorrow of knowing that you were taken at 26. 

On this, a cold October night, I wonder if things would have been different. 

Would I still love the chilled nights and the seasonal frights? 

Would I miss the cold feeling when they said you were gone? 

Would I miss the crater in my heart when a decade had past? 

Would I miss crying alone in my room when nobody was around? 

Would I miss not remembering your voice anymore? 

You were my scarlet afternoon. 

You were all that I ever knew. 

Now every October, I try to stop drinking, 

It always seems like I still drink more than a bottle or four. 

What’s the point of a beautiful day, if you aren’t here? 

I miss you mom, I always will. 

I’ll make you proud, I promise.