Autumn’s Elegy

The wind stirs gently—a whispered refrain,
Brushing through amber leaves, fleeting, untamed.
September’s warmth fades into gold,
A quiet farewell, both wistful and bold.

The trees wear fire in their fleeting decay,
A splendour that shimmers, then slips away.
Footsteps soften on rust-lined trails,
Where time concedes to autumn’s tale.

The air is laced with woodsmoke and chill,
A sharp, sweet promise the dusk distils.
The world slows down, yet something remains—
A hush, a longing, a dream unchained.

And as the season folds into dusk,
I watch the last leaf break from its trust.
It spins, it dances, weightless and free,
A final note in autumn’s symphony.