Vacant whispers carried in autumn air
Breezes of colors of orange and gold
Remnants of trees silhouetted and bare
to shake and shiver in desolate cold
Let us lay rest to fall and leave to be
To drape and cover these green fields below
or masquerade of a hidden plea
A truth of irony and bled bestow
Just one attest a truth to scream and yell
Above the season of what has begun
Against the sun her voice do preach and tell
To dream and think too much and feel outdone
So I do believe that autumn is here
But refuse to accept what I must fear