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Love is fall

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To fall in love
in the dying months
of fall
would be an awfully
beautiful thing.

To love and
to loose in the
chilling days
of fall
would be to
paint the autumn
leaves
slowly dancing
to their death.

To love is to fall
to fall from a tree
to dance from the sky
with the bend of a knee.
Could it really be
to fall for thee
as easy for a leaf
to fall from a tree?

To love
is to be
as to fall
is a leaf
but to dance
is to die
on a cold
Autumn night



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