The wind blew a crisp whisper.

A feel of cold climbed up my spine;

Leaves were letting go, and the ground they'd litter.

Clouds were painted darker,

And the sun chose to not shine.

The wind blew a crisp whisper.

I turned on the car and its heater.

I pulled into my driveway, the house with the pine.

Leaves were letting go, and the ground they'd litter.

At home was the aroma of cookies made by a baker,

Except the cookies that were made would be mine.

The wind blew a crisp whisper.

My mom asked if I could get a blanket for her.

When she draped it, an animal snuggled in: a feline.

Leaves were letting go, and the ground they'd litter.

Night arrived, and we ate our dinner,

And relaxed in the living room to the light of moonshine.

The wind blew a crisp whisper.

Leaves were letting go, and the ground they'd litter.