Fall’s canvas graces the air
as orange spices tease our tongues
cocooning skin against the chilly tunes
of the season’s winds.
even the trees shed their summer’s sins
while ours lay hidden
under layers of warm thoughts
and denial mittens
singing empty promises
to the tombs of the forgotten.
seep the aromas of Hades’ tokens
flinging pieces of the sun against the heads of children
hopes set aflame faster than an arsonist’s playpen.
hastily dig resting places and pray for a quick end
i, sip my cinnamon treat while you hold imaginary lives
in your cyber kingdom
almost forget how to giggle and smell cordite-less autumn flavors
we, forget that being mute today
will blind others tomorrow
when Hades’ lands on our shores
and S.O.S’s are ignored by ‘fellow’ humans…