Jack Brauer

Autumn cottonwoods illuminated by a big bonfire.

Fall poem

As leaves litter the ground,

The amber and golden brown

Slowly paint the town,


We all gather ‘round;

To count the minds we’ve lost

And the loves we found.

Carpe DM’s and carpe noctems;

I feel nauseous this equinox is

Not like my past autumns.

Let’s light the bonfire, please,

In the heat of the moment I freeze, melting

As I hope you’re not yet tired of me.

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