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Gold, bronze and yellow       
Every tree seems to glow
With the riot of colours that seem
To change, almost like a dream
Oh the autumn is so full of every hue

The tropics do not ever see
The beauty of autumn in every tree
The four seasons that come and go
Is something that you can never know
From poems or prose, I surely concludeLike the autumn is an age so graceful,
We see people with their days so full
Of the experience of youth that just passed them by
But do we age gracefully as the trees whose leaves die?
I am not so sure, said the chemist selling dentures and hair hues

Nandakumar Nayar
Feature and Freelance writer
nayar@optonline.com
Phone: (732) 393-9438