Music is the crisp sound
Of a trees leaves,
Brushing together in the breeze,
A blur of red, brown and green.
...
Sometimes it's hills of moving sidewalks
Sometimes learning to fly breaks the dream in three seconds
Sometimes the old letters matter the most
It's strange how the smallest things can make you feel the best
...
Autumn
Music is the crisp sound
Of a trees leaves,
Brushing together in the breeze,
A blur of red, brown and green.
I wish you could smell the air.
I wish you could see what I see.