The Promise of Fall

And when the leaves begin to change,

I’ll be there

by the time they start to fall.

Not early, not late—

just in that quiet moment

when the world exhales,

and summer finally lets go.

I’ll return like a ghost

you almost stopped waiting for,

carrying the kind of silence

that only comes from distance.

Maybe you won’t recognize me at first—

grief weathers people

the way autumn weathers trees.

But I’ll know you,

by the way your eyes still soften

when the wind carries something familiar.

And even if nothing is the same,

even if the cold moves in too fast,

I’ll still keep my promise—

to show up

right before everything fades.