WaitingThe sounds of distant footsteps echoes on,
carried by the cold air, through frost filled trees.
Across the endless sky, the chilling breeze
wonders all around until called upon.
The cries of the frozen river,
the howls of the icy cold wind.
And there I stand, waiting for the moment,
the moment for spring to finally come.
FallOne after another, leaves tumble down,
sketching a curtain, concealing a town.
Rustling; the brittle leaves beneath my feet
are whispering, as I walk down the street.
The colourful scene of red, brown and gold,
the season before the snow, frost and cold.
Like a canvas splashed with hues of sunset,
They are colours that you'll never forget.