One can't help but wonder as to his secret, his significance. His is the sort of strange whimsy that begs questions and seeds ideas - where does he go at night? What does he do? Is he truly of his name, is that why he decides to leave them when the frost finally arrives? Is he someone we've seen before, or something all together new?
Love starts with teasing, touching, turning into friendship, birthed by a small seed
It's nurtured by looks, by sighs, by seeing, and by need.
Old Man Autumn. What a strange old sort he is.
One can't help but wonder as to his secret, his significance. His is the sort of strange whimsy that begs questions and seeds ideas - where does he go at night? What does he do? Is he truly of his name, is that why he decides to leave them when the frost finally arrives? Is he someone we've seen before, or something all together new?
A curious thing indeed.