Golden and bronze leaves leave the trees
and fall down, down to the ground;
and in the autumn colours,
does the forest floor drown.
The chilly air, the static hair,
warm fires, and woollen caps.
The cool showers of rain make it
the best time to be inside, perhaps.
Watching the leaves glide,
listening to every raindrop;
the beauty despite all of
the falling, makes my heart stop.
YOU ARE READING
creation.
PoetryThis collection of poems is my way of appreciating the world around us, and attempting to put the sheer beauty and wonder of Mother Nature into words. (cover pic or other pics not mine obvi.)
