The Scent of Autumn
By: Sarah Crockford
A draft pushes through the corner of my mind.
I asked for silence
but am drained for noise.
I sat miles from you house
but still could hear you sleep.
The wind blows and I shudder at nothing.
Leaves fall unhinged from their mother.
She forgets to cling on.
There is desperation bleeding through the scent of autumn.
I left the door open.
The smell of frayed nerves here still lingers.
Sarah is currently a PhD student in linguistics at the University of Cambridge, U.K.. Her short stories and poetry has previously appeared in Hypaethral magazine and the Varsity Arts. You can read her published and unpublished work at www.sarahkaarina.com. Sarah lives in a quaint English village, where she spends her evenings explaining to her dog that the typewriter is not all devouring monster.