stitch me the fabric of fall

Both I and my blog are dressed in fall colors today, so it seems like a great time to fulfill my promise to post an autumn poem here today.

I still remember exactly where I was when I wrote this poem: Honors Algebra 2, in 10th grade. That class wasn't very useful for me; most of what my friends and I did was go out in the hall and play games because we'd finished our assignments.

One day, a crisp day like today (though probably not quite so dreary), I took out my notebook and scribbled this:

Autumn - the season of beauty, of change and of surprise;
Every morning is different, with colors that dazzle one's eyes.
Why do I so adore autumn, its evenings and its days,
Its days of such heat and days of such cold, its torrents of rain or sun rays?
The reason, my dear, to me is quite clear, though you may not have a clue.
The reason I love the caprices of fall is because they remind me of you.

In trying to recall my intentions when I wrote this, I have decided that I wasn't writing this to anyone specifically. Rather, in my self-centered teenager way, I think I wanted someone to see me as Autumn. (Ah, now my wardrobe choice today is all the more ironic.)

I wanted someone to see me as beautiful and surprising, entrancing the way falling leaves in the sunlight are entrancing. I wanted someone to love me in all my moods, even the stormy ones.

My, how things have not really changed all that much. That still sounds really appealing.

But I would also like someone to see me as the warm house after coming in from the rain, the sweetness of apple cider, and a hand to hold. Someone they can go to for comfort, that they can trust, that they can hold hands with.

I guess I'd like to see someone that way too.