As leaves turn golden, whispering goodbyes,
The autumn winds sing a mellow tune,
Shadows grow long under the amber skies,
Softly cradled by the quiet afternoon.

The crisp air carries tales of yore,
Of harvest moons and fields of gold,
Each rustling leaf a story, a lore,
In the twilight, secrets unfold.

Beneath the canopy of the ancient oak,
Footsteps crunch on the forest floor,
Nature’s tapestry gently spoke,
Of seasons past and dreams of more.

In the embrace of fall’s tender grace,
The world slows down, a peaceful sigh,
For every ending, there’s a space,
Where new beginnings gently lie.