I love hearing the
wind whispering through the trees
and to feel the breeze
kiss me on my upturned face.
The bold bright colors are things
I would love to seize
and capture in an everlasting moment.
Watching the trees slowly turn from
green to orange to red to yellow
is not something that is seen in a city;
more like a field or meadow.
The nights slowly go from
hot to mild and eventually to cold;
but inside, it's toasty
by the stove with cup of cocoa.
This is the time of year call fall.
A time unique to each of us
but familiar to us all.
wind whispering through the trees
and to feel the breeze
kiss me on my upturned face.
The bold bright colors are things
I would love to seize
and capture in an everlasting moment.
Watching the trees slowly turn from
green to orange to red to yellow
is not something that is seen in a city;
more like a field or meadow.
The nights slowly go from
hot to mild and eventually to cold;
but inside, it's toasty
by the stove with cup of cocoa.
This is the time of year call fall.
A time unique to each of us
but familiar to us all.
It's interesting how the rhyme scheme of this poem would change from time to time. I like that you didn't try to force a rhyme when it didn't work, and instead you just kept the ones that fit in well. Still, the only issue is the coloring because the yellow is nearly impossible to see, and the green in pretty difficult. But regardless of formatting, this is a very well written poem.
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