16,11,11

laying in the front yard on the lawn under neath the stars, the autum leaves come falling down; much like these walls. The unrest of thw wind blowing, speaking to the trees as they sway back and forth together. Its that fresh musty smell that keeps you intised & suddenly everything you know the wind has taken away. The ice air begins to bite & crawl its way at your ears, leaving what everyone else says unheard. Its winter now, & all you want is to feel warmth wherever or whoever it may come from, because your heart is starting to go cold. So bring the hot chocolate & I'll get the blanken, and we'll lay lazily under the stars. How deep is dark? How high are the stars? My fingers go cold & nothing to do but forget the rest & mellow out. Mellow like the sheet that covers the sun at night, that we hide under at every chance we get, so insignificant yet the change is undenyable. However I am left sitting in my room, staring at blank walls & try to imagine my future but they arent really anything other than what I see.