Written on August 25, 2024
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It’s the sound of wind, breathless, softly playing Rustling through leaves with songs in richest essence Collecting dreams despite quiet senescence Gentling, lasting impressions grown through praying. While the nights grow bitter, the trees keep swaying Reaching for the moon in her adolescence Lush splash of song with tones of fluorescence ‘tis the season of grace is all I’m saying Dazzling colors, bold tones of joy unfolding Seeking life in the hearts of those who love her, Autumn’s secrets, so graceful, we’re beholding It’s the twinkling of an instant we’ll say burr, Her rousing splendors she’ll not be withholding. Autumn is the spice that I’ll ever prefer!
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