by: Byron J. Turner
The leaves fall down like summer rain
After April showers
Before May flowers.
With every minute gained
Their life is drained
For winter is a coward.
He sneaks behind the peaceful season
And robs him blind of his trees and grass
But no one grieves them
Because
For every leaf that is erased
There are long sleeve sweaters and presents in its place.
Then the jolly man returns to the north
Only 365
Until he can once again come forth
But wait, what have we here
There are missing sheep
For that of next year is a leap!
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