The trees change faces from green to brown
crying tears drifting to the ground.
The wind bites our faces as
the season changes.
Every step we take
Crumple. Crunch. Crunch.
is like the crackle of fireworks.
Silvery crescent shows its face
as the golden sun shys asleep.
Purply hues stain the sky
Like watercolors on a canvas slide.
The wind blows stronger
shoving their force into our bodies
as we walk.
Crumple. Crunch. Crunch.
The Review 
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