Amidst the autumn whispers, When leaves are gold and red, The earth entwines its beauty, In the paths that we have tread.
Each rustle tells a story, Of seasons turning round, In the quietness of dying, Life’s cycles can be found.
- Lillian B Miller
Amidst the autumn whispers, When leaves are gold and red, The earth entwines its beauty, In the paths that we have tread.
Each rustle tells a story, Of seasons turning round, In the quietness of dying, Life’s cycles can be found.