Autumn

Somewhere, someone was burning leaves...the distinct scent, a delicious aroma, a reminder, a harbinger of cooler nights and graying days.

Trees reluctantly unclenching their leaves, like a lover saying goodbye, a slip and a spiral downwards to join just the other bits and pieces of them that they used to own.

He walked along the trees where the leaves had just barely covered the road...hiding the dark cement that was rippled with ruts and coated them in a gorgeous weave of colors.

She had covered up his holes as well, his faults and his blemishes that stained him.  She gathered and layered over him, her bright and eye-catching parts blotting out his ruts, his uneven patches.  He laid beneath her, letting her envelope him, letting her scent linger on him, her gentle weight just barely indent him.

She made him smooth, she made him plausible.  She masked him with her arms extended and drew him in.  She bound him, there were no wounds that could emerge.

And at night, with a crisp air that felt like a slight stab when sharply inhaled, she warmed and invited.  She reflected blood moons and harvest nights.  She dabbed frost on in the morning, and sometimes a pale sun would gently melt it, her clinging against him taking a more intimate shape.

He thought of this as he walked, sometimes the leaves crunching under him and splintering into pieces.  He smelled the scent of burning leaves, and it reminded him of her perfume.

He had many reminders...but this was one of his favorites.