Now where once these nations bloomed
They age and they fall like the avian plume
Rich with life now falling beneath
The trees and their leaves are no longer green

The mem'ries are locked away with the sun
Steadfast to a morning where the mem'ries are done
Riding on the winds of a time that calls
Whispering through trees that now it is Fall

A silence looms at the pumpkin patch
Where scarecrow's collected his very own batch
O'er lake and hilltop a cottage stands
Waiting to be touched by Autumn's hands

A sweet caress inviting the dew
By forgetting the old and embracing the new
Some things these trees may never beget
But the leaves they lost they may never forget