I’m the season of change. I touch the leaves and paint them crimson and gold. I make them dance across floor. I chill the air to raise bumps on your skin. I bring you back to school, a different person than the months before.
So why does my name have such a negative connotation? I bring color and new beginnings. I liven the night with my breath. I should be held above all other seasons. Instead, hearts sink. When you trip, you say it’s my fault.
I bring leaves to the ground. Suddenly, I am blamed for the rain and snow. I hear, “There’s heavy rain, Fall,” or, “Look at the snow, Fall.”
I am not Cupid. Yet, I am charged for the tears and sorrows of infatuation? Unrequited love is often accompanied by sobbing and curses to my name. “Why did I Fall for him?”
I’m the season of change. Light reflects the colors I smear across the trees. I am the reason to hold someone’s hand on a brisk walk. I change people’s hearts. I am why you have to get back up. I cry and paint the world white. I harvest love, and I am why your heart was caught.
