The pallet of reds, yellows, and oranges.
Reds I adore and treasure.
Sunlight begins to become foreign,
Yet continues her fight to be pleasured.
The air carries a calmness.
The rustle of nature’s wind chime
on the golden leaves is flawless.
Soothes me into the autumnal meantime.
The hues are reminiscent of the eternal goodnight,
Yet enticing and bring me delight.
Poetry 