There is something in the first whisper of the chill of an autumn night that makes me feel that ache, like I’m in love.
Maybe it’s that every significant relationship I’ve had has had its beginnings in the fall air, the first kisses set against a quiet night where the summer insects had hung up their instruments for the year, and two bodies having the heightened pleasure of warmth and touch against the elements to make you feel young and alive.
In any case, I love the feeling, whether it’s real or just synthesized by a collection of delightful memories.
