Come Home

 This day is all sun and leaves turning colors.
Winds pick up where rumors left off.
There is a gentle walk to endure.
I have counted the steps.
No every hill and break.
Know I will fall.
Blame the month.
Curse the hours getting short.
Beg a tired moon to sleep.
I will drink the cider.
Push orange as a flavor.
These bones will ache.
Please come home.
All the furniture seems moved.