
I Like Curly Hair

From A Seed To A Flower
Colorful leaves crunch under my feet,
Creating the sounds of fall’s heartbeat.
The air is filled with an aroma of smoke,
A drift from chimneys, I smell burning oak.
Leaves still fall and cover the ground,
Branches almost bare – a new look is found.
Shadows fall across the blanketed yard.
Strong feelings emerge of an old postcard.
Memories evoked – too many years gone by,
Glimpses of times in the leaves we would lie.
Making fall leaf angels as if it were snow.
Laughing and playing with nowhere to go!