When Autumn reaches the old oak tree,
The leaves fall with grace and glee.
Orange and gold line the ground.
I can hear the crinkling sound.
I smile as the first leaf begins to fall.
Such a big impact from something so small.
Sometimes sound,
Can send a message so profound.
YOU ARE READING
Dear, Samantha
PoetryThis is a book of poetry with no true theme. Some weave a story of guilt while others are simply meant to invoke pleasent feelings or memories
