I look at these trees,
Standing highly before me,
Branches half way empty.
Looking so cold and wimpy.
I look at those leaves,
Falling far below me.
When the sun hits their color,
It seems like they catch on fire.
Their beauty catches me in awe,
Add the wine makes the leaves fall.
After the leaves fight the wind towards the floor,
It will no longer be a beautiful war.
This will always be Autumn,
Any way you look at them.
