October

Outside the world is no longer green,

For the leaves on the trees are turning.

Scarlet, crimson, orange, and gold;

The trees are as fiery as matches burning.

 

Summer has said, 'It's been a pleasure,

But I must pack my bags. Farewell!"

Then sneaks up autumn so slowly to say,

"Sit down, I have secrets to tell!"

 

There's a little field behind a house

Where the farmer's fall crops grow,

And a little hay man is standing there

To scare away the crows.

 

Autumn is a beautiful season;

It's the time for family and friends,

For Halloween and festivals,

And the breezy, cool air it sends.

 

But as I walk down the orange trail

I think of past times and years,

And memories come like a flood to my mind,

And from my eye escapes a tear.