Over and across the rooftops,
the fall leaves from proud trees stand,
glimmering like gold in the softening sun.
Feel the rustling air that brings a deathly cold,
the passing of time against all who feel so bold.
Beneath the dancing leaves,
of sweet red Maple, and quiet White Birch
When our love blossomed against cold frost
And a knot was tied for you, the prettiest of all,
In an old weathered chapel, in a lonely red fall.
In this mellow autumn sunset
The cloudless orange sky beholds,
Our winter’s store is filled, we borne no ill.
Guided well, a crimson victory’s never tasted so swell.
And now that we’ve consumed, it holds us under sweet spell.
How charmingly fragrant,
trees perfume themselves in fall.
The falling leaves, the dying trees, the cycle of life
—retold. The Wheel gives and takes without heed
And I, a lonely reed, will pray under misty breath my creed.
Under the damp, grey heavens,
Under a chill wind where all hope lessens,
The dimming gold turns grey, light is chocked,
But the memory of your coming beacons above reason,
A hope that spring will come, and thus, that love is for all season.