Is it any wonder that I prefer to live in my fantasy world? One where you and I walk hand-in-hand through piles of autumn leaves, the sun glinting through the thinning forest canopy. I push you down into a drift of crunchy brown and orange maple leaves.
You giggle and throw handfuls at me. We wrestle about, and I shove a number of these down the back of your shirt; you do the same to me. Then, we fall in the blanket of these gorgeous autumn colors laughing, embracing, and kissing. We roll over to watch the leaves descend from the branches above caught up in the fading rays of the sun, the chilly fall breeze shaking loose more of the forest's golden kites.