Leaves whisper secrets to the breeze,
Their golden hues a testament to time.
Trees stand tall, in quiet reverence,
As autumn weaves her spell sublime.
The air is crisp, the sky a canvas,
Painted with hues of orange and gold.
Each step upon the path a journey,
Through memories both new and old.
A dance of shadows, light, and shade,
Plays upon the forest floor.
In autumn’s gentle, fleeting grace,
We find the peace we yearn for more.
As days grow short and nights extend,
The world prepares for winter’s chill.
Yet in the heart of autumn’s end,
There’s warmth and beauty lingering still.