Summer has passed,
The leaves are changing colors,
The year is almost over,
Yes, already another.
When the wind blows,
The leaves fall,
On to a colorful ground.
You see many people out in their yards,
Raking and raking all around,
Why should you clean up the ground?
The ground looked so pretty before you delt,
Your final card upon your belt.
I wish this season could last forever,
But, alas the world must trevor around the empty space.