When the sun herself hides behind the sky,
And hazy nostalgia stirs fallen leaves
That whisper, as they tumble, a small sigh,
The days that I love are the days like these.
The wind, capturing every sound made,
All the utterances lost in the air,
The ground, yearning for warmth to be strayed,
Before a blanket of snow can fall there.
The trees mature and shed their hardships,
The earth, covered in red leaves to stay warm.
Frosty dawn's turn to numbing fingertips,
All is tranquil and calm before the storm.
But then the cold draws in, as dark comes
Covering autumn's beauty in sorrow,
The lakes glazed over their blue, crashing drums,
The sun ducks away until tomorrow.
Fingers are numb, they're wearing frost,
The moon, shines his snarl, chilling my spine;
Lock your doors, pull the shades, don’t pay the cost,
When the moon comes to fight, the loss is mine.
The ground, frozen solid weeps a sad song,
The dark of night laughs as bitter hearts freeze,
The moon roars his call, forever so strong;
And the nights I hate are the ones like these.
