Autumn comes unwillingly,
Acting as a middle man.
His gentle breathing tames
The wild weeks known as summer.

September.
The trees begin to unfold, tiredly
Removing their brilliant garments
Exchanging them for duller dresses.

The breeze stirs her lazy fingers
Over the crunchy brown leaves
And they stray away from
The harsh fingers of the rake.

The breeze is chilly on the way to school,
But the sunrise is golden.
The world whispers and shivers
Warm wool sweaters feel their worth

October.
Old memories feel so distant.
There are good times left behind
And eternity ahead.

Mornings are pumpkin flavored
And time is like a brick red rust
The brown plaid scarf makes its grand reappearance
Covering chapped lips and pink noses