Autumn
By: Scott Fueston

Beautiful colors of orenge, brown,
and gold fall here and there.
Across the dieing grass,
and baring trees they blow everywhere.

This time of year our noses are filled,
with such enchanting smells.
All throughout the air,
the frangrance of dieing brush swells.

These aromas of deth in the air,
do not fill us with strife.
But instead worms our hearts,
whith the prospect of new life.

This time of our existence,
we know it as autumn.
What was once on top,
must sink to the bottom.

The sacrifice of the old,
to make room for the younger.
Injustices to one life,
so to fulfill our mothers hunger.

Our mother of nature while sometimes cruel,
is sometimes sweet.
She takes away the familiar,
to bring us a fresh treat.

This time of our lives reminds us to be happy,
while we're in existence.
And thankful for our mother,
and her constant consistence.

If you would like your poem to appear on a page on my site like this one just email me at scottfueston@hotmail.com (Don't forget to include the name of you poem, the artist's name, and the body of the poem).
P.S. I will even list your poem as "anonamous" if you prefer.