I think that I could love autumn.
I could love the arabesques of yellow.
I could love the flaming pirouettes of orange.
I could even love the clumsy plies of brown
if they could dance before my eyes
for more than a flicker.
I think that I could love autumn
if only the leaves did not fall and fade
if only they could lend their color forever
and not wither and die.
Deep. I love the last line. Autumn is indeed a contemplative season. I like how you refer to the hues of Autumn as ballet moves (I used to take ballet, so I'm familiar with them ). Love your metaphors.. It's almost as if you're comparing Autumn to an elderly one that you love because of who they are, but hate because they have to go so fast.. If only...