Red, Brown, Orange, Yellow,
As the wind begins to mellow,
Leaves on trees long forgotten,
Crumbled, Firm, Colored, Rotten,
Summer gone and winter soon,
Leaves on ground so messily strewn,
And as the breeze turned into whisper,
As the leaves grew ever crisper,
Frost on the breeze,
And puddles freeze,
And rain turns into snow,
And clouds grow darker,
A simple marker,
That seasons come and go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem