Thousands,
Of leaves.
Blowing by,
On the north wind.
Rolling,
On the streets,
Flitting,
On the grass.
Thousands,
Of colors.
Reds, yellows, browns,
Myriads of each.
Returning,
To the Earth.
Thousands,
Of butterflies,
Blowing by.
On the north wind.
Loafing,
On the streets,
Flitting on the grass.
Thousands,
Of colors.
Blacks, blues, oranges.
Myriads, of each.
Chasing leaves.
As they return,
To the Earth.
Glorious Fall.
9/27/13 Alton Texas
The little town, with a McDonalds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes indeed it is, and you catured the essence very well here. Good one!