One cream and two sugars
in a slightly darker roast,
was how you took your coffee
after that weekend on the coast.
We only met that once
but my thoughts will always stray
to the salty air we breathed
on that fateful sunny day.
Your last name I can’t recall
but every inch of you I see;
every time I close my eyes,
it’s of you I dream.

Your number is in my phone
but I know I’ll never call,
since that weekend was over
when the summer became the fall.

© Autumn Siders 2017

Turf Wars

Don’t be coming here
to hunt your prey
since this is my turf,
listen to what I say.

If you come ’round again
there will soon come a day
when the hunted becomes you,
’cause I’ll make you pay.

That bird that you maul
and the chipmunk you chase
are my friends not yours
so get out of my face.

Go back to your own house
and leave me to mine
or you’ll soon learn about
why I sharpen my claws so fine.

© Autumn and Emilita Siders 2017


For so long I’ve pretended
that I am in love with you,
if only to appease the masses
when it’s not even true.
I think we both we’re trying
to make something last
without ever realizing
what we had was in the past.
Now with no certain path
and no more wreckage in our wake,
I’ll travel on alone for once,
my heart finally at stake.

© Autumn Siders 2017


There is no time like the present
to fall to your knees
as the weight you’ve been carrying
slowly turns to bees.
And the cracks you’ve been filling
are bursting at the seams,
as the hope you’ve been expecting
remains only in your dreams.

People pass you by with not a care
and never stop to ask
why you’re on the ground in pain
unprotected by your mask.
And soon there will come a time,
as their fortune will not last,
when they’ll fall to their knees
with a soul so far downcast.

© Autumn Siders 2017


Dripping wet,
from the ocean below,
your eyes met mine;
a quick glance we stole.

Later as the sun
was setting in the sky
I found you again,
the object of my eye.

Then the moon rose
as the stars began to shine
and I’d thought I lost you
until your hand slipped into mine.

© AUtumn Siders 2015


The dead will rise
and hunt you down,
ripping you apart
until there is no sound.
Blood soaked ground
and empty swings
as the wind blows
between undead things.
Night soon falls,
let’s hope your eyes adjust
since in this world,
you never know who to trust.

© Autumn Siders 2017
RIP George A. Romero 2/4/1940-7/16/2017