The golden carpet is beginning to grow

Leaves falling almost like snow

Red, orange, yellow and brown

Trees losing their green summer crown.


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Fall, the prophet of winter coming

Cicadas end their joyful humming

All through the town you see the pumpkins

Sitting there like small orange munchkins


Frost appearing during the night

Making a soft, silvery light

Waking up to a cold, dark dawn

To see a soft gray lawn