Autumn

poem about autumn

I open my eyes,

  to misty morning grays.

I see off in the distance,

  the early sun’s rays.

I waited for a moment,

  snuggled deep in my bed.

But like the siren’s song the outside called,

  the morning chill was the only thing to dread.

So I throw off the covers,

  to be met by the brisk air.

To start the day on a good note,

  not a single care.

I throw on my jacket,

  and step out the door.

I look up to the sky,

  and see colors galore.

The trees are like paintings,

  with orange, yellow, and red.

I hear the crunching under my feet,

  of the ones that are dead.

The autumn season has come once again,

  surrounding me with its glorious beauty.

As I view the spectacular changes,

  of nature at its best adaptability.