What am I to you in the Autumn, when the allure of my hues bring you ease before the cold of winter? When you look out your bedside and see my crisp, spiced nature, do you feel the warmth; as you clothe yourself behind the slight hint of caramel shades to my coat? Or when you see me through the window of an old thrift shop, are you enchanted by my sweet feelings of nostalgia? Some call me rustic... but I've learned age to be beauty. I'm not so bright you know; like the groves of my ancestors, glistening in the spring. My style is Victorian by coincidence, brewed from copper pipes and steam engines. I saturate our era's fondest memories with the filter of my overtone. So shrink back now, you hear? Relax and be smol. Let your mind scroll down our little antique roadshow, while your host, Rustic Orange, takes you away to better times...
©palewriter
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