Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Autumn was it when we first met
Autumn is it what I can't forget
Autumn was love and fret
Winter is not upon thee yet.

Autumn has three months,
Where leaves are by counted by the millionth,
Autumn is the time to find some shoes
While the season after brings us the blues.

Autumn is colour and life
Autumn was when you hug your wife.
Autumn is all alone
Autumn was blissful and blown.

— The End —