Death of Autumn

That unnerving skull of ashen,

and space envelop the cloak

He travels only in autumn

When the land blind of roke

He is not here to sere, but still sere

And sodden the soil in his path invoke

A deadly draft that spin his cloak

That whiff of autumnal death on near leerer

And the garden of life,

Has entered the dead of night

And that sun, the mist made bloody auburn

Is a sign that Death has come to Autumn

And in between the canopy lanes

The light roads of browning leaves

Are crusted black in the breeze

And ashed away by that deadly frame

It is a sign Death has come to Autumn

When the earthly coil turn aluminum

It is a sign and consuming symptom

Of what Death has done to Autumn