Your wonderful words,
Carried by an Autumn song.
Round, and crystal-clear.
Such is your Siren’s call that,
Even the trees are blushing.

Deciduous trees,
“Holding back” the howling wind,
Sadly, with each gust,
A pale yellow tragedy,
Falling towards the forest floor.

Like branches in Spring,
Our laughter reaches upwards,
Taller than the trees!
Were I to grow with such speed,
Would The Redwoods be jealous?

My goodness the trees!
How tall they grow together
With long winding roads
Leading to a friendly feast
Where apple pie is best pie