In autumn’s hush, the branches sigh,
A cluster of leaves drifts from the sky.
The wind takes hold with a fleeting hand,
Scattering colors across the land.
Rain taps gently, a silver song,
While the breeze carries it soft along.
Cool air settles where daylight thins,
And mist drapes softly on quiet skins.
This season speaks in tones so kind,
Of change, of endings, yet peace we find—
For every falling leaf will show,
That loss can make the spirit grow.

Leave a reply to SRIKANTH Cancel reply