Open the door to where a rotting world waits;
Lurid and bawdy with colour and loud stench.
October likes to lounge here, her ripened state
Veiled in mists and the loading of heavy branch.
Leaves hang, fall, piece by piece, as she strips down bare,
Revealed by degrees, twirling, teasing madly,
To all that lies beneath, beyond what she wears,
Her frame exposed, knotted, rough, gazed on sadly.
Her voyeurs she tempts with ripe seeds and sweet fruit,
Her last chance to seduce before Winter's drag.
Coldness readies itself, lurks for hot pursuit,
Waiting for October to lose her royal rags.
The dance is done, colours lost, nakedness shown.
It's time for Winter's presence to be made known.
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