From the north the chill wind blows
Carrying threats of coming snow.
Scattering leaves, through the air they fly
As the autumn ends, summer finally dies.
The ice creeps forth from it’s slumber
Frost seeps, in endless number.
Patterns of wonderous shapes, wild designs
As the cold comes, the world to bind.
For me it’s always sad when summer dies.
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A Simple man who dreams of being an Author one day. A lover of poems and stories of all types. A dreamer and a tale weaver in my spare time. What little I have as a father of three. Come sit by the fire, and let me spin my tales, let me speak my rhymes, and show you, a quite good time.
RedRavenPoems 
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