It’s
in the morning sunrise
The yellow and purple hues,
That November’s song is heard
Coming through.
The yellow and purple hues,
That November’s song is heard
Coming through.
It’s in the falling leaves
That colored show of fall,
The red, gold, and brown
My favorites of all.
It’s in the evening breeze
The sweetest lullaby,
I sit fireside, cozy and warm
And sigh.
It’s in the painted heavens
The joy of sunset’s fame,
November’s song of requite and grace
Her ancient acclaim.
by Alexia Stevens, C 2017 all rights reserved.
Image in Pixaby by Ulleo
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