It is as though you cast a spell on me

It is as though you cast a spell on me. 
Or maybe I cast a spell on you
And you executed it. 
Or maybe just yet, you planted a seed,
So I can grow a spell out of it,
And plant the sapling back into you. 

The harvest is nearing.
Sink your mouth into a ripened apple. 
Ever so slightly slipping away. 
And the honorable snowstorm
She arrived just at the right time.

I look at the white car roofs
And I see your colors, reflecting
In front of my eyes.
Like flashes of madness
But madness that feels
Perhaps right. 

I will wear a black dress on Friday.
I think it’s what I’ll do. 
Either way. And my boots.