It is Autumn
The leaves rustle at his feet as he walks
He’s thinking
Just thinking

The wind blows through his neat hair
Orange and yellow leaves fall slowly to the ground
Leaving their safe, familiar home on the tree
To the barren ground underneath the man’s feet

He has his hands in his pockets
He looks at the carpet of leaves
What once was a happy green color
Is now a sad yellow

Yet there is a beauty in the sad shade
A heartwarming sight at the carpet of leaves
All dead on the ground yet seemingly jubilant
He’s thinking, just thinking