Just Nothing Revisited

In my mind's eye I see the sky, almost white, as if it's being drained of the color of summer, along with its smoke thin clouds randomly placed along the way.

In my memory I can feel the gingerbread hued leaves under my feet, crisp and brittle from having given their all to the wind and the trees they once clung to.

From afar, a breeze carries to me the scent of fireplaces burning, the heart of someone's home rekindling the great romance of life that is the redolence of families gathered in and around one another in love.

These are the places my heart travels to; like a pilgrim to his holy land I return to the season of my sentiment.

Apparently this trek is an annual one. This post, although in a slightly different vein, is from the very same heartbeat.

1 comment:

and remember, words are my love language...