Lanterns of October

I wait for this time every year—

when the leaves begin to crisp

and summer finally exhales.

.

Days shrink shorter,

nights grow stranger,

and the air hums with something watching.

.

I look for them—

the carved pumpkins, lit with expression,

their grins trembling against the cold.

.

To me, their flickers whisper:

you’re still alive.

.

Faces full of emotions

I can’t always show myself,

traced by innocent hands

and set to glow for only a while.

.

The lanterns are small guardians,

guiding me through

my complexities

my anxieties.

.

Reminding me

that no matter the expression I wear,

I’m still whole inside—

still warm,

still here.