• I want to walk the streets,
    Right down the middle,
    On that pretty yellow line that is so hard to resist,
    In utter silence.
    No cars to be heard or seen for miles,
    No noisy old lawnmowers,
    No hustle and bustle of self absorbed, angry people,
    Just the swirl of crisp air around me,
    and the tap of my old Converse against the asphalt,
    as I observe the world around me through my thick burgundy glasses,
    And spy the trees as they turn to all the odd colors of the warm color palate,
    And it will be then that I wrap my arms around my frame and whisper to myself
    "It's fall."