Fall and Applesauce
It’s that time of year again,
It smells like the seventh grade
And birthday cake.
Each year a new meaning,
But this year’s seems to be the best.
Sixteen years I have been waiting
For this one year,
This one fall,
This one day.
It’s that time of year again,
Where the cool breeze churns.
A comfortable feeling,
Neither hot nor cold.
The warmth of love,
Of friendship and applesauce*,
Keeps me going everyday.
Yes, it’s that time of my life,
The one day, it seems,
That I have been waiting for,
The smell of burnt birthday candles
Churns in the air.
The touch of maturity,
Defines each year.
* Personal allusion
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