Prezly Writes

A Quiet Autumn

I dream of a quiet autumn,
and a life that feels kind.

I have no polished words,
no elegance in thought,
but I suppose I am true.

I dream of moonlight, of beauty, of peace,
and, perhaps, of being loved.

To write, just to write,
the way one breathes,
without a plan, without a need.

And maybe to dream again
of a life more embodied,
a touch more tender.

A caress, a scent,
warm rain on stone,
golden leaves falling in silence.

I have no lovely words left,
only words.

Feelings, desires,
the wish for flowers,
for warmth,
for simplicity.

And in that stillness, music begins:
waves that dance,
your eyes, a fleeting glance,
and your smile that inspires,
like autumn light before it fades.