Orange

Crossing the land in a boast, with a brag, he shows his face to the unsuspecting.

The bringer of life and the killer called autumn, leaving nothing but his mark.

The crown on his head proves how others couldn't compete.

As hard as they try,

Defeat has never crossed his path.

The ground trembles beneath him.

The world can't help but to stop and stare.

His every move,

Judged and documented.

Standing, in absolute power,

The birds do not chirp for him, they sing.

Of triumph.

Of success.

With his stride, years of careful planning and thinking are revealed.

Taking my hand,

He leads me through his kingdom.

Telling me about his history,

And how lonely it is to be without a rhyme.