golden girl

she is autumn in a girl, russet hair and golden freckles. 

she tastes like the crispness of a freshly harvested apple,

and she feels like the warm mellow sun of a fall day.

her warmth could heat the coldest white of marble,

her laugh could soften his frostbitten heart.

walled in by a castle of books,

a fabricated protection against the softening influence of love.

but her sunshine was the warmest thing he’d ever felt,

and his wall tumbled down before her shine.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s