A Bouquet of Dampness

She gives pause to his spiral toward the never ending bottom,

balance to his topsy turvy,

respite from his jaded worldview of faded black and blue.

She smells of lavender optimism,

drifting on a deviant humor,

leaving a drizzle of pleasure he drops sick along the stairs.

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She is the first flush of autumn and the pep rally romance,

She is a heavenly gallop toward a bouquet of dampness.

She is a wrong turn 'round winding, twisting straight into nothing.

She is fall.

And he tumbles.