Fallen souls fear cold days,
When Autumn sprays
Gold in the face
Of the world.
The bold winds blow
A shimmering glow of
Colors red and yellow.

I will be mellow
With nothing to harvest
Bellow the cloudy skies,
When the bald trees
Will miss their leaves,
And the Mother Nature will lie
With beautiful fairy-tales
To make us forget
How it feels
To lose.