The warmth is slowly losing itself,
The leaves that once rustle,
Falls gracefully,
The once lush green view,
Has turned,
Into shades of hazel and brown.
Slowly,
The leaves are all at rest,
Flakes take their turn,
Falling gracefully,
A veil of silvery flakes,
Covering the earth.
The shivering cold,
Wraps every living soul,
Each seeks for warmth,
Warmth that has yet to come.
However,
In the midst of coldness,
Every souls,
Are waiting patiently,
Until that day arrives... ...
yeah, it's almost end of the year. That's why I'm writing this poem. See if you can guess what this "warmth" is? heh!
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