Gold foliage decays on wet pavements,
trodden in by heavy footed men - booted,
on their way to work each day in the City.
Parks covered in gold and red are passed by
while they rush to their desks, the daily grind.
Memories of summer breezes flit
through my head as I join the throngs.
Rain drenches me, soaks my hair
while I remember past Octobers.
The odd days of sunshine under pale skies -
those crisp, chilled, fresh mornings.
October leaves are our flowers now,
their beauty, natures way of colouring dull times
until the ground is blanketed by snow
in Mid Winter.
Ruth Walters
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/october-35/
