An Autumn Sonnet

In poems, I keep all the things That I should not, ever, forget- The robin preening as she sings The sharp scent of autumn's breath Pumpkins fast growing ripe and round Fields turning to a golden brown Frosty dawns make a crunching sound Laughter rises as pale white clouds Sunlight pours in through a window The clear blue of the sky above Trees painted in red and yellow And the feeling of being loved These are the things that autumn mark Cold to the touch, warm to the heart