The Falling Leaf Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE

The falling leaf floats slowly now
So gently through the air,
And down towards the solemn ground
The tree is almost bare.

It doesn't seem that long ago
When in new tender bud,
And then throughout the summer here
Beneath its shade we stood.

And looked across the lake so still
My dreams I shared with you,
The love we thought would never end
Now lost in autumn's hue.

The leaves provide a carpet now
So softly I do tread,
The patterns fine of auburn gold
Once green but now are dead.

And as the winter winds do blow
It carries them away,
Along the path I walk alone
On this November day.