The trees seemingly patterned yet oddly askew,But an oddity that just seems so untrue,Puddles dropped here and there,Seemingly built with great care, The leaves falling here and there,Like tid bits of little hair,With predestined yet lawless direction,Showing us its minor objection,Slowly descending to the windswept gravel,Telling us it’s our time to travel, The light captivates each leaf,Granting each one of us a sigh of relief,Inside its veiny texture,We catch a glimpse of its basic nature. That the barely covered paths,That have battered fences,With trees at ease and leaves in its breeze,Making us sit on walls that remind us of fall.

The trees seemingly patterned yet oddly askew,But an oddity that just seems so untrue,Puddles dropped here and there,Seemingly built with great care, The leaves falling here and there,Like tid bits of little hair,With predestined yet lawless direction,Showing us its minor objection,Slowly descending to the windswept gravel,Telling us it’s our time to travel, The light captivates each leaf,Granting each one of us a sigh of relief,Inside its veiny texture,We catch a glimpse of its basic nature. That the barely covered paths,That have battered fences,With trees at ease and leaves in its breeze,Making us sit on walls that remind us of fall.