The autumn leaves are blooming,
The temperature is dropping,
The scent of burnt wood fills the air.
I walk past the graveyard.
I tighten my coat around me;
My scarf billows behind me.
The wind blows through the trees.
Leaves scratch their way down the street
And crowd around my feet.
I have at least reached the house
And walk up the porch steps.
I sit on the swing next to her.
A warm mug placed in my hands,
Steam wraps around my face.
The swing slowly sways.
She lays her head on my shoulder.
I gently kiss the crown;
I have finally come home.