invisible trails from the dancing brown nature were a joy to follow. Her brown eyes spoke for the life force against the crisp green fields, how the pair sparkled with admiration as it took the whole scene before her. Her lungs signalled, and she deeply inhaled the air that reminded her so much of home. It was the smell of sandalwood against the cackling fire, honeysuckle and maybe a tinge of lavender, maybe. The frost was coming,  but the arrival of bitter cold did no masking of the feelings that emerged. Beauty could be appreciate in the pure whiteness. Appreciation could be seen within the beauty of the cycles of the four brothers. Her heart was fond of the orange-haired prince by the name of Autumn. Only the sight of him stirs a very beautiful fluttery feeling within her that will never be able to keep her at ease. Only him, would make her toss her brown coat away and keep her pretty hair bundled with her only yellow ribbon. 

She could feel the spread of pink, as with the indigo red tinge softly rippled across the skies and the leaf, that warrior that was falling had found the vigour it forgotten. With the aid of the dear wind that huffed the brown leaf’s invisible trails away, the lonesome was smirking with mischief as it spied the hand that awaits. Her long fingers was already spread out against the space and yearn for the falling of the leaf. The birds hummed a tune, unfamiliar yet strangely charming. “You’ll be fine, little leaf, ” sung with fiery breeze cooing the young and adventurous. While the crickets protested against the chirping and cheered for the adventure to spark. 

And when the leaf fell. The wind halt. The breeze was stale. It wasn’t bustling anymore. The whole forest hide the smile that was growing with pride. And, the tree, that ol’ tree especially seemed to heave a sigh as its little one has finally found home. It wasn’t sandalwood with fire, nor was it honeysuckle with lavender. It was just a person who wouldn’t forget, or tread on this brave brave warrior. Home was a place where you, are appreciated for who you are. 

Even if you’re withered and brown. A warrior indeed, you would have been respected. 

It began with a fallen leaf. 
Because glory is not only when it was hung up with the greens and vitality. 
A fallen leaf, an emerging warrior ready for the new season to fall by. 
And then a pair of firm hands spun her around. 
And it began, again…