Poetry, Writing

October by the Lee

Season of mists and amber’s rust,

leaving behind the summer in the autumn’s dust,

one by one the fruits tumble down,

From cherry rose red to the deepest brown.

To get lost in this canvas is certainly no lie,

For a day is coming when everything will have to die,

But now, on the bare trees the daylight will splinter,

The door opens, say hello to winter.

Standard