As the leaves fall and the air turns crisp,
The clouds roll in, and cover the city’s mist.
The streets are deserted, and the sky is gray,
A symphony of autumn, that sets the tone for the day.
The small town is shrouded in a blanket of fog,
A veil of mystery, that makes one feel like a jog.
The buildings are obscured, and the world is still,
As if time has stopped, and is waiting to fulfill.
The clouds they hang low, over the rooftops,
A reminder of the change, that the season brings and drops.
The trees, they stand bare, and the wind it howls,
As nature’s symphony, continues to play on and scowls.
But amidst the gray and the chilly air,
The small town holds a beauty, that’s beyond compare.
For as the clouds surround, and the world is hushed,
The small town stands, a testament to life, that’s untouched.