Poems and pretty things

Autumn

Her footsteps grazed the chimney tops and her ice tipped fingers brushed past Crimson cheeks.
Her rolling laughter smothered the ground in a cloak of leaves.
Her lips whispered gentle melodies and pumpkins grew in her wake.
She danced around raindrops and filled the crisp air with spice.
She gambled with winter and kissed the summer goodnight.
Her name was Autumn and Autumn was her name.