I still think of you when autumn comes around

We sit underneath the covers with the lights off—the grey of the storm leaking under the windowsills while we breathe in each other’s breath—listening faintly to the sound of rain hitting the top of the tin roof—and I think to myself this is how I love you—tangled blissfully in our canopy of kisses—your honey colored locks curling at the ends from dancing in the rain—the wind swaying in rhythm mixing with the autumn leaves and threatens to whisk us away with it—and I think this is how I love you—on lazy Sunday mornings bundled together with blankets and books and bad coffee to shake off the cold chill that the falling autumn rain brings—and I can’t help but wonder if we too will fall