“In between autumn”

By Marina Ferraro 

Warm brown boots,

During the crisp autumn air,

His grass green eyes,

His complexion so fair, 

Skin decorated in freckles,

auburn red hair,

She’s in her puffy blue jacket,

And no season can compare.

Tart apple cider,

Fallen crunchy leaves, 

Dressing up in costume,

of people in famous movies,

Little carved pumpkins,

Near every front door,

Sweaters shoved in closets,

The ones she never wore.

Warm little homes,

Smelling like cinnamon cloves, 

Winter around the corner,

With its icy black roads,

No more cool weather,

Only gray cold skies,

The sun hidden behind clouds,

Where a winter storm hides.