The trees becoming bare,
the river, it has over flown with the dew of the morning sun.

The colors a bright orange, pale green, red veins,
my blue veins pumping.

Your veins too, rushing, abounding red and while
though our breathes sustain us apart
true longing is for mine to beat with your heart.

My only wish would be to share the sight with you,
you play my close friend for the dew it comes again.

The story not quite finished, as the colors fall to the ground,
the colors will not impress so long,
for the frost it bites unexpected

The chills will sooth and the tea will whistle,
the bright yellow beams peek to warm the cheeks.

Time, it is truth and endures,
crisp and brisk are the days passing by,
shorter sun, longer moon, fires infinite still pervade the dark blue.

My only hope is that you come back before the final leaves,
only heaps in the streets blocking the flow through and down the grates below.