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.
My Pocketful of Poetry 
Absolutely beautiful ❤️
LikeLike