Oh, fragrant breath of autumn’s slow descent,

You linger soft in whispers on the breeze,

With notes of auburn, amber, gold, all spent

In leaf and bark, among the mighty trees.

A haunting beauty wraps the world in hues

Of dying light, yet vibrant still, and bold.

Each scent, like age-old stories, winds and woos—

The musk of earth, a flame to chase the cold.

Your air holds echoes of forgotten days,

Of laughter lost, yet somehow near at hand;

In every scent, a memory’s warm blaze,

A spark of life now scattered through the land.

Nostalgia stirs, both bittersweet and kind,

And with it, tears—joy’s laughter laced with pain.

For autumn calls our truest selves to mind,

In every fading leaf, a sweet refrain.

So linger here, dear season of the heart,

Where scents and colors mourn yet celebrate.

In fleeting hours, you weave your tender art,

A beauty only time can consecrate.