You claim you visited exactly one month ago. I admit that I only just now notice your presence. My alarm barks in the dark and your chilly crisp breeze scrapes the warmth of my slumber from my skin. I didn’t give you permission to touch me that way.
I stumble as I try to ignore you. I dress in the blackness of my bedroom, quietly, hoping you won’t notice. Feeling my way down the stairs I seek the first stretches of sunlight before setting my tea pot to boil. I find safety and comfort in sunlight so I stand in the only spot where it shines, facing you. Caffeine calls to me like a safe house. My brain hangs heavy until I sip my Earl Grey, and you watch. I feel you linger like a voyeur. You wish to fling leaves in to my hair and pull moisture from my skin. You send squirrels to spy for you. Silly Autumn. Squirrels are so forgetful.
I wrap my wool around my neck to protect my sanity from you. I admire your gorgeous glowing garb and your aging woody scent. You are beautiful, but you tease me to much to trust you. Our relationship is so shallow. I like you preferably from a distance. You don’t want to believe me but I will celebrate when you leave me. Winter and me, we’re just friends. We understand each other. She does her thing I do mine. We’re open and honest with each other. You, you sneak and creep around me. I find it unnerving. Just leave me be, please, while I enjoy my tea and chase your chirpy squirrels back to their nappy nests.