Letter to Fall

On crisp Autumn days, when the trees still hold on to the last warm remnants of summer, I enjoy walking in the park. The chill makes its way into my lungs, cold yet invigorating. Preparations for a new season ahead. Leaves of crimson, gold and brown flutter from their home, joining their fallen brethren down below. On these days, I will pluck a few from the ground, admiring their faded beauty. Driven to a peculiar impulse, I crush them in my hands. The soft crunch as they turn into little bits of themselves, intermingled together. Shaking my hands, they fly up into the sky, perhaps kissing their tree goodbye as they journey to somewhere unknown. I feel the slightest twinge of longing to be like them: Wishing all the pieces of me, Both broken and new, Can fly away, Gently carried off by the wind.