Lady Autumn is orange, and gold tea rose. Scarlet, with whisps of the pink.
She is yellow and hazel, sepia, sienna. Tawny and topaz, we think.
A slight hint of bruno, the bitterness comes, from the end of a long summer fair.
All things must perish, to be reborn bright. Your forlorn soul, need repair.
Rest it warm and so toasty, in autumn of light. A season of hayrides, cold warmth and dark light.
A time to kick back, reap reward, enjoy harvest. Relax for the spirit, not to taunt who can go farthest.
Abandon the beaches, for beds of fall leaves. Pluck fruit from the orchards, of earths stately trees.
Lick autumn's rich sweetness, from the edge of your lips. Drink cider and peaches, on thanksgiving trips.
Autumn is salve for everymans soul. In amber, and riches of beauty, behold.
She wraps you completely, in fuzzy soft fleece. The one time of year, with instinctual peace.
Listen closely to autumn, she whispers so soft.
She tells you sweet nothing, with a mind set aloft.
Her musings of wisdom, release grief and regret. As colors go wild, she guides the sunset.
A diffusion of light, smears the sky like warm blood. Emotions disperse, like the start of a flood.
You think that a funeral, is just such a bummer...
while Autumn is nothing, but the death of the Summer.