Autumn (Tree) Poem by Ben Littlechild

The last leaf of summer falls
A tear of summer past.
Winter is coming, darkness calls.
Getting earlier, night arrives fast.

Insects no longer fly,
As frost starts to lie.
Coating the ground in blankets of white,
All bare the tree stands still in fright.

Through empty branches, the wind blasts,
The wood remembers summer last.
When all was green and not yellow,
When summer's breeze kiss was mellow.

Only a few months, the tree must hold
For spring will make it bold.
With new leaves growing, new to old,
Summer arrives, arms to unfold.