What A Time

I hate this poem so much. lol. But I am posting all my poems, even the super bad ones. (super bad one |)

I think of it each and everyday.
The gentle brush and sway,
Of tree branches and leaves blowing towards my way.
The cold, sweet, gentle air.
The temperature is not hot its fair.
How much I wish, that I was there.

The brown and orange aglow,
Just before the snow,
When this time has come, you'll be sure to know.
Its a time for thinking,
It's a time for all.
What is this time?
Its a time for fall -