Crimson leaves come tumbling down,
Dancing through the autumn air,
Covering the sleepy town,
With colors rich and rare.
Crunchy, crispy underfoot,
The leaves make such a sound,
Squirrels scurry, grab their loot,
And bury treasures in the ground.
The cool breeze whispers through the trees,
As shorter days draw near,
And nature slowly starts to freeze—
The end of fall is here.