October Poem
The quiet stillness of an October morning
All seems clothed in a rosy glow
The pink clouds in the sky
The warm bright colors of the red, orange, and yellow trees
Mist rises from the ground
The vacant land is shrouded in cloud
The last apples are clinging to the topmost branches of the trees
Warm bright colors, but cold crisp air
It chills me to the core
All seems clothed in a rosy glow
The pink clouds in the sky
The warm bright colors of the red, orange, and yellow trees
Mist rises from the ground
The vacant land is shrouded in cloud
The last apples are clinging to the topmost branches of the trees
Warm bright colors, but cold crisp air
It chills me to the core