Autumn Mystique

When the winds have donned reposeful caress
And trees bestow their mute benediction
With shy leaves that blush in demure finesse
Mellow fruits announce Autumn’s perfection

The pumpkins wed apple cinnamon spice
Amidst squirrel sermons and nutty hoards
Bonfires that crackle of earthly vice
For bountiful ladies and misty lords

But when balmy breeze mistakes day for night
And drags the sun yonder watery grave
Stripping the sky of hue—piteous plight!
Once fruitful tree, is now a lowly knave

And as martyred leaves are banished to the floor
Know that Winter will be waging its war

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