Autumn Poem by John Powers

The rain falls gently upon the window
the sky is a dark grey-blue
and the leaves have revealed themselves true,
for we all show our Colors when we're through.

The year dies gracefully,
it's breath now damp and cold.
Natures story, the last chapter's being told.
We can only hope we're so beautiful when we're old.

Such an antique age,
never done or changed by painter or sage
Nature turns her last leaf, as she does the next page.