I open the door and get whipped in the face with the playful autumn breeze

The skies are gray-blue and the air chilled with oncoming winter; the Sunday of summer is here

Bitter aroma engulfs me all around, the smell of damp grass and dead leaves

Hints of gasoline as cars whiz by and comforting tobacco from a lit cigarette

All take turns whispering past my face, tempting me to remember, carrying along with them bits and pieces of someone’s childhood

The carefree little girl says it would be a perfect day to knock on the neighbor’s door and ask to play

They could run around in the park or make a pile of leaves, ignoring the burning in the back of their throats and their pink little noses

Dirty their jeans with dirt and grass stains, catch bugs, go on an adventure

Staying up late into the evening until droplets of rain began to fall or dinner was ready

Then it was time to say goodbye, will you be outside tomorrow too

I smell it now and close my eyes, but not for long

Distractions are time consuming; that breeze had tricked me

My heavy backpack brings me back down to the sidewalk on Wisconsin Avenue

And, shoulders aching, palm burning from the expresso I hold for dear life, my only thought is

It is so damn cold

I need to get back inside


This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741