Leaves descend like whispered secrets,
Painting the ground in hues of gold.
The air, a crisp embrace of fleeting moments,
Tells tales of warmth now grown cold.
Trees stand as silent sentinels,
Guarding memories of summer’s grace.
Each branch a story, each leaf a page,
In natureâs gentle, timeworn face.
The sky, a canvas of muted tones,
Reflects the heartâs quiet surrender.
To the season’s unhurried, tender song,
A melody soft, yet rendered.
Footsteps echo on paths of amber,
Where dreams and reality blend.
In autumn’s whispered elegy,
We find beginnings in the end.