Crisp

Because it's like
Eternal wandering.

"Autumn favouritism,"
She said.

It's stuck in my throat
But she just smiles
And walks away.

These trees are a tomb
For a wretched heart.
She's walking my grave.

"Ephemeral,"
She said.
She smiles as she turns.

"Walk with me,"
I whisper.

She pretends not to hear.

That's okay.
These trees are my tomb
And she'll be back,
She always is.
Autumn favouritism;
Bleeding brown.

It's never been so clear.

_________
Anonymous: Even though I don't know who you are, thanks.