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.

A poem doesn't have to rhyme,
All it needs is souls and rhythm.
While some poets think that they require structure,
Others think it needs particular features,
Such as  certain lines in verse,
Or number of verses.

I know and believe that every good poem needs
Is souls and rhythm,
without the need of grammatical correctness,
No matter how messy or untidy one may look,
The reader or the listener
only needs is to feel the emotion
Or the message behind ones lines,
And not what's on the outside.