The trees stood tall through early months,
and without hindrance they staked their claim,
'til autumn’s harsh indifference came.

Summer had it's blissful time,
Until autumn’s ending date,
revealing - that autumn is never late.

The season shall begin it’s work,
Turning all to deepest gold,
Taking life, changing young to old.

It shall write a grievous story,
That contains the most final of endings,
Pen poised, it starts the final chapters
To usher in winter’s restful ending.

Ciaran Quirke

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-series-8-falling-leaves/