Very soon season got changed,
Nature's clock brought,
Long sleepy days with only rests.
Now it's turn of autumn,
Which makes lives rotten,
The gentle touch began to curry,
As rich aromas began to slurry.
The unconscious tree,
Began dropping its leaves,
The petals fell on earth,
As the silence got struck.
The alone solitude tree stares the sky,
And found nothing written on it,
But the days remain such sleepy,
As the witchy broom,
Makes everything so doomy.
In no more time,
The nature's clock swoon to winter,
The streams of dew,
Making nights cold,
As snowy spell ceases every corner,
Making little fellow freeze and caged,
Wrapping in its white gown,
The tree stands still in yard.