Autumn Leaves

Autumn leaves Southeast Texas,
and goes somewhere else to play.
Summer drags on until November,
dropping a hurricane along the way.

Autumn leaves me breathless,
When and where it is fully displayed.
A palette of many colors,
woven into a fine brocade.

Autumn leaves are precious,
we press them into books.
Where they become faded,
and lose their precious looks.

Autumn leaves me speechless,
at men and their games.
As football frenzy strengthens,
my hope for mankind wanes.

For autumn is a time to reflect,
and prepare for winter's wrath.
Not a celebrated war of cities,
down gambler's addiction path.

Autumn leaves me helpless,
with the passing of the years.
September's song was sweet,
but December slowly nears.

Autumn leaves me wistful,
that with every passing year,
our dreams will be forgotten,
after coming, oh so, near.



Red Leaves  

Why Leaves are Read

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Read War's End, the Novel

Copyright 2010 © Ronald W. Hull

9/25/10