The leaves are slowly turning <br />As September slips away, <br />Now soon the chill of wintertime <br />Will yield those skies of grey, <br />When cold winds blow the leaves will fall <br />And frosts shall grip the night, <br />Then dawn will wake in silence <br />And shall wear a cloak of white. <br /> <br />Now as the woodland turns to gold <br />And sap begins to dry, <br />The last days of the autumn glow <br />That soon shall fade and die, <br />As nature sleeps and will not stir <br />Till March does yield a thaw, <br />I cannot wait to see again <br />The arrive once more. <br /> <br />When flowers bloom within the sun <br />And winter does depart, <br />Then I shall see the blossomed boughs <br />A sight to warm my heart, <br />But yet that time does seem so far <br />So many months ahead, <br />For scattered all around me now <br />The leaves are lying dead. <br /> <br />I look upon those ghostly trees <br />With branches lean and bare, <br />Now soon the ice shall grip the land <br />And with it bring despair, <br />A cold wind blows the night grows dark <br />As stars do shine above, <br />My dream shall be of daffodils <br />And season that I love.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-leaves-are-slowly-turning/
