Leaves fall like whispers from ancient trees,
Each one a tale of time’s gentle decay.
Golden hues and crimson dreams,
Dance in the breeze, a fleeting ballet.

The air turns crisp, a tender bite,
As shadows grow long with autumn’s light.
The harvest moon rises, a beacon bright,
Guiding souls through the tranquil night.

In the stillness of the fading day,
Nature’s symphony begins to play.
A chorus of rustling leaves and sighing winds,
Serenades the heart, where peace begins.

So let us wander through the golden glade,
Hand in hand, where memories are made.
Embrace the season, let it unfold,
For in autumn’s arms, stories are told.