• I sit under the autumn trees,
    watching the descent of autumn leaves.
    Flittering, fluttering, in patternful weaves.

    Not a sound, but of autumn leaves,
    slowly descending on grieving soil.
    The trees now looks of turmoil.

    Fall is here, the season for autumn leaves.
    The ground littered with colorful foliage.
    The breeze air taking me hostage.

    Now I leave this place in hurry,
    leaving behind the scenery,
    of the falling of autumn leaves.