Jack Frost's Smiling Face

Jack-o-lantern faces,
they aren't really there,
just dirty, dead autumn leaves
rusting in the chilling air.

Four walls to break you down tonight,
they're growing close and cold.
You can feel them all around
see the hues of red and gold.

He's hugging at your hips,
can't feel your toes, your eyes.
Jack Frost, he comes and goes...
kiss me, dear, with lies.

Silence is so deafening,
not my words, not mine.
Doesn't make them any less true,
they just seem to currently apply.

Taste the cinnamon of summer,
taste the summer as it dies.
Welcome to the Autumn..
best poems come when writers cry.