Golden Days

For these golden days, in old fashion

The winds are blowing again

It’s rattling the leaves, shaking them free of their rooted shackles

Falling ever so graciously to the frosted ground that will soon be frozen in time.

They lay there and are sentenced to the end.

As a child i have always wondered why the colors were so vibrant

Such a True Red always caught my eye and never let me look away,

Never letting me go through

Now that the cycle begins again,

The beauty of looking into the day with colors so vibrant makes a work life dole bearable.

The world is windy now a days, gone is the satisfying breeze.

The days are full of cold rain delays and phases of haze

The colors are not vibrant today

I can not see my reds, golds, and the rare orange.

But i still hold out hope to see the winds change sooner than never

I hear others are starting to notice they can’t see the leaves now

I wonder if they ever saw them as i did, or is this their first time noticing their faceless beauty?

The other day i noticed something,

A warmer breeze rushed over the land, clearing the haze

I was taken aback from this and started to shout to the others to come see,

but they said it was too cold and the haze was not gone

I sense the winds are changing, i have seen it coming 

Seems like warmer breezes lay upon the horizon for some

while others shall need a jacket.

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