The fall eve paints the late summer’s leaves,
Reds and brown from yellows and greens,
The grass turns to brush,
The wind tells her to hush,
But she disobeys,
And continues her journey through the land of autumn,
Crunching through the color, death, and decay
Reds and brown from yellows and greens,
The grass turns to brush,
The wind tells her to hush,
But she disobeys,
And continues her journey through the land of autumn,
Crunching through the color, death, and decay
WickedWriter
Something16
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