Fall, in Love...

Throughout seasons there are messages that follow, 
Everything glows with the familiar ways. 
We view noun it brings for us, 
knowing that the life we share is not absent, 
from the shiny glaze. 
Love is coherent with oxygen yet as once was brought and tamed, 
pleasant truth to our growth with the series 
from and or with our buds? Seemingly the best 
solutions have an hypothesis still unsolved?
Some, majoring through times all myself can say for 
this poem is that the world made I?