Summer has passed, but <br />The weather is still fair. <br />The once leaf-laden trees, <br />Are, now, almost bear. <br /> <br />Leaves spiral down; <br />Spinning round and round, <br />Until, at last, they <br />Reach the ground. <br /> <br />The once green leaves, <br />Have now grown old, <br />And have created below, <br />A carpet of red, brown, and gold. <br /> <br />Whipped around by the wind, <br />The fallen leaves, float and fly. <br />A sudden gust of wind, catches them, <br />Sending them, sailing up high. <br /> <br />Leaves crunch underfoot; <br />They curl and decay. <br />There's a musty smell in the air, <br />As they slowly, waste away. <br /> <br />Soon the leaves will be gone, <br />And where they once had lain, <br />Will be just their lacy skeleton; <br />Soon, only an impression will remain.<br /><br />Angela Wybrow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/falling-leaves-13/
