Falling leaves resemble you: light, arriving without warning, finally settling in my heart. Beyond a forest washed in gold, we smiled at one another. As though we had been walking a long road since ages past, solely to smile that way in that very moment.
🍂 The Language of a Season
Autumn arrives without a fuss. It is already hidden in the evening breeze as summer’s heat cools, in the crisp air that taps against the morning window. You were like that too. One day I looked up and realized that all my seasons had changed color because of you.
I remember the forest path we walked together. That day, the rustle of fallen leaves brushing our feet sounded unusually loud. It felt like the world whispering softly to us: ‘Remember this moment, forever.’
You picked up a red maple leaf from the ground and held it to the sunlight. When the light passing between its veins cast a red shadow across your face, I wished that moment could stand still forever.
🕰️ The Growth Rings of Time
Trees record time in their growth rings, and people record life in memories. Our time does not flow in a straight line; it circles like the seasons, gathering layer upon layer.
The conversations we shared did not scatter into thin air. ‘What color do you like?’ ‘Doesn’t it smell like autumn?’ Those small questions and answers accumulated in layers, becoming growth rings in the tree of us. The golden autumn forest was more than a backdrop; it was a warm comfort holding those conversations close.
When we grew tired of walking, we sometimes sat on a bench and gazed into the distance without a word. A closeness in which even silence felt natural. A distance at which we could feel each other’s warmth without speaking. That was another gift autumn gave us.
🌦️ What Disappears and What Remains
Seasons inevitably pass. Autumn’s splendor will depart, leaving bare branches through the winter. But disappearing does not mean something never existed. Just as fallen leaves return to the soil and nourish the trees again, memories of past seasons seep deep within me and become a strength that holds me up.
That autumn with you may someday grow faint too. The colors of memory may fade and its details blur. Yet the smiles we exchanged as we looked at one another, the warmth of our clasped hands, and the scent of dry leaves brushing our noses will remain in the realm of the senses, etched there forever.
"Love is not simply crossing one season together,
but watching every changing season through the window that is you."
✉️ A Letter to You
If I were to speak of you in the language of autumn, the word would be ‘gratitude,’ rather than ‘longing.’ Thank you for coming into my world, for painting my autumn in its most beautiful colors.
As trees sway whenever the wind blows, my heart still sways in the breeze that is you. But that movement is proof of being alive, rather than unease. In this way, we stir one another and grow deeper at each other’s side.
Even as I write these words, autumn deepens beyond the window. At the edge of this season, I call your name once more. In the language of autumn, in the language of love.
