Walking in the autumn sun
A touch of cold in the air
Waiting leaves one by one
Fall to the ground unaware

Past the white picket fence
Nothing can stop their fall
Downward will commence
The last golden kiss of all

Tossed in a growing breeze
They tussle with our mind
As gentle as a feather please
Will rests with all its kind

Till a gentle snow will come
Pressing and matting down
Begin to fade and glum
Will soon become all brown

Then only a few still cling
Such that rattle in the night
When a soft breeze bring
An end to all their plight