This Is My Autumn
Through the window I gaze,
the sunlight shifts along with the haze,
elongated sunlight dims the view,
promises of tomorrow never come true.
The angry wind nudges the golden leaves,
branches twitch and tumble down with the breeze,
swirling up cyclones of autumn's dying foliage,
scratching aimlessly echoes of a forgotten age.
Through autumn's mist we used to kick our way,
grabbing bunches of crackling leaves we liked to play,
screams and shouts we yelped in playful strides,
while falling leaves our tracks and faces hides.
Aching limbs atop the ageing trees do smite,
while branches whip with tangled breeze out of spite,
seeing our joy of youth with splendour smile,
even the wicked wind from the north could not spoil.
The landscape pauses before its final breath,
tears of rain weep for the summers death,
a frosty white awaits the 'morrows morn,
the green and gold forgotten in the frozen dawn.