Autumn In Liguria

Summer fades,

but is autumn the emptiest of seasons?

The north sea winds do not favour it,

but in the town I call home, it is sacred.

I revel as my lungs fill,

with a glorious mingle of scents,

the warming wisp of a farmers bonfire,

the gentle decay of surplus chestnuts,

and as I tread this carpet of oak and pine,

my old friend nostalgia drops by.

A thin haze rests on the air,

finally the world sees through my eyes,

and the gentle pinch of winter coming,

only stokes the home fires further.

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