Wisps of winter in the air,
An ever so slight fog hangs here and there.
Orbs of yellow streetlights look so much warmer,
The smell of a burnt off cracker around the corner.
There's the sweet whiff of the Gulachin flowers.
Memories of gift boxes arriving home, shining like stars.
Of holidays when children played around without a care.
Of love that hung gingerly in the seasonal air.
And so like an alluring perfume you could never perfectly define,
Are sweet October memories of mine.
- By the Witch