Talk With Fall

Oh, Fall, you’re dangerous for dreamers There is a lot of time to miss Your leaves are everlasting screamers in lake of sorrow and disease. I saw her yesterday or earlier She left me, to survive my loss I still remember she was jolly, But our ways will never cross again. September is in yellow, The leaves will have to sail away, Oh, Fall, it’s hard to be your fellow The poet always has to pay for right to write about his longing for right to talk with yellow Fall, to see the magic of the morning And put on paper own soul.