More poetry...

I just looked around a few Sundays ago and realized that at King's produce, the flowers have been set out again. This years selection is almost entirely yellow. Most people would consider this a real bummer, but to me, it's more than wonderful and oh-so-sweet. Yellow is my favorite color, and fall holds some incredibly *special* memories for me. So...
The poetry mood came again. *smiles innocently*

 I don't guarantee anyone will like this one.


 Flowers, yellow-my favorite color
 Someone said to give one away
 But I couldn't do anything of the sort
 Still, took it home that day

 It sits on my dresser now
 Along with other things of note
 Special, a little memory
 A diary entry that someone else wrote

 Things were inevitably simple then
 As the past does normally go
 Fall is the season I learn things, I think
 I think it enables a person to grow

 I think that we all learned something
 Really, in retrospect, I'm sure
 That she and he and you and they
 Learned something amidst the blur

 Of leaves and laughs and the bright blue sky
 With clouds drifting through it,
 Three dimensional clouds that I never looked at before
 And walkways the sun has lit

 Perfect hours of rushing and warmth
 That was a long time ago
 A new friend, lost ones, different things
 That before I didn't know


 I won't forget, I promise forever
 Leather gloves, English accents, and flat caps
 Cold weather, running faster than before
 Still different than now, still less confusing, better perhaps

 Words filled the page, black on white
 Hours on ends spent thinking
 I longed and longed to truly learn how to write
 And that's what I spent my time doing


 Things were funny back then
 A lot of things are when you're young
 I wonder why, I wonder when
 We'll laugh like that, a song we've sung

 Burnt out like a candle on a lonely night
 It's a simple fact, truth of the matter
 Everything can't always go right,
 But I promise, I'll still try to remember

 Cold days, spent in my own world,
 Watching the trees slowly loose their leaves
 Their hands, raised toward the sky
 The harvest pictures, with wheat in sheaves

 Then there were those moments
 When I felt the coldness
 Even stronger, and it still torments
 My soul, why was it always this?


 Fall is coming on again,
 Brilliant, beautiful, yet cold
 What will it bring me?
 What does the season hold?