Dear fall,
Be better to me then your sister summer,
She whipped and scorned me with her heat,
She made me so busy I had no time for myself,
My disappointment of her misuse of the weather made it inexplicably sad,
Oh fall be better, with your wisdom and your slow grace,
Like a woman growing old,
Do it slowly,
With your warm cider,
Your gold pumpkins and your soft cool evenings.
At first summer was my first love,
But I'm a little mad at summer,
So I'll talk to my second love fall.
Give me time to myself to think, and paint and draw,
Don't hassle me all the time as summer did and make me worry.
Treat me with love and show me more family.
For I miss them so.