Autumn's Final Bow
On leaf strewn woodland floors,
Autumn's raiments lie.
Adorning where they quietly fell,
From grey autumnal skies.
A pale sun, now weak and low
As autumn winds gust and blow,
Frenetic bursts of swirling leaves,
Dance amongst the naked trees.
Silent are the woods,
Readying for winter now.
To sleep, through the long cold days
As autumn takes her final bow.
Copyright © Gary Smith | Year Posted 2016
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