october

if all the year was like october,
i really would run much further.
adrift upon the harvest,
enjoy the bounty as it lumbers.

the autumn days much shorter,
time to walk upon the leaves of maple.
to breathe the smell of burning wood,
i dare not whisper of sweet april.

if all the year was like october,
missing winter, spring, and summer.
bedded down upon my nest to slumber,
we would dance our dance and forgot to remember.

to feel the pink lush of the coming chill,
dare care to say goodbye to what earth takes.
daytime, less time, more time for joys that delight.
the eternal october warms of nutmeg and cinnamon spice.

if all the year was like october,
i would not run bored of thee, so noble.
but wrap you up in my silken red hair,
and pull you through the crack in the opal.