Leaves falling effortlessly,
Elegantly grasping the ground,
Trees holding tightly,
To amber creations 
That have been worked on all year round.

A gust of icey air,
Foreshadowing future cold,
Rain and hail battering down,
All begging desperately,
To have their story told.

A colour faded hoodie,
Swallowing in its size,
A warming mug of cocoa,
Comforting us through,
These shadowed lies.

The fire tinted season,
Filled with sweeties and disguise,
In it the roots are hidden, 
A dark and clever monster's,
Slow but scary rise.