The leaves didn’t die, they’re more lively
Dressed for the annual party
Of fun and frolic, of home and wine
Autumn is the season for carnival and dine.

The wind has been roasted to the hues of marshmallow
The cheers and giggles hidden in the pockets of each fellow
The hymn sung by the joyous gentry
With fest and festivals, it is a merry scenery.

The season writes love letters, the stamp is a bronze leaf
Carried by the arid wind, it steals, a sorrow thief,
Maple eyes full of sweetness, welcoming each, rich and poor
The season of compassion, autumn takes you on a happiness tour.

Isn’t it ironic? How the season of dead
Digs old memories and makes new friends?
With a cup of butterbeer and a glass of burnt sins
It isn’t the season of death, it is a season to come clean.

The tricks and treats in candies
The dresses of horror and unholy valleys
Calls for frivolous delight
Parading with joy, the deadly 31st night.

Amethyst blossoms in sepia pictures
Every truth is woven in fiction
Buried in the ground, for mother earth to heal
This season shall bring new hope, we appeal.

The chocolate leaves fall in hot cups
The pancakes have been drizzled with syrups
We laugh as the wind takes away our woes
This is autumn, captured in a bronze prose.

A/N
Not the best one in this series. I wrote it in a hurry cause I don't get Thevenin theorem and there is a quiz tonight.