Golden leaves dance on the whispering breeze,
As autumn’s song weaves through the trees.
The crimson hues paint the skies,
Nature’s palette, a feast for the eyes.

The air grows crisp with each passing day,
While shadows elongate in twilight’s sway.
The forest floor, a tapestry of gold,
Tells stories of seasons, ancient and old.

Gentle whispers of autumn’s grace,
Caress the earth in a warm embrace.
The harvest moon illuminates the night,
Casting a glow, serene and bright.

In every rustle, a memory lingers,
As autumn’s touch slips through our fingers.
The beauty fleeting, yet profoundly deep,
In autumn’s arms, we gently sleep.