Autumn Leaves

In golden hues the boughs do bend, Where once the greens did proudly sway; Now crisp and brittle, nature’s blend Of fleeting time on this fine day.

They dance like whispers through the air, A soft farewell to the warm glow; Each wisp a tale of joys laid bare, A story in their gentle flow.

And ‘neath the tree, as shadows play, A carpet formed of rustling gold; Reminds me of the fleeting day, In nature’s dance, the truth unfolds.

• Helen M B M Maud