In the quiet hush of autumn’s gentle call,
Leaves descend, a ballet in golden light.
Crimson and amber, they weave and fall,
A tapestry of nature’s fleeting sight.

Whispers of the wind cradle their descent,
Softly they land upon the earth’s embrace.
Each leaf a story, a season’s gentle lament,
Carving patterns, a timeless trace.

Beneath the boughs where sunlight weaves,
They gather in carpets of russet dreams.
The ground adorned with autumn’s sleeves,
Reflecting the warmth of sunlit beams.

As shadows stretch in the waning light,
The leaves settle, a serene goodbye.
In their silence, a promise to ignite,
The hope of spring beneath the sky.