The leaves are slowly turning
As September slips away,
Now soon the chill of wintertime
Will yield those skies of grey,
When cold winds blow the leaves will fall
And frosts shall grip the night,
Then dawn will wake in silence
And shall wear a cloak of white.

Now as the woodland turns to gold
And sap begins to dry,
The last days of the autumn glow
That soon shall fade and die,
As nature sleeps and will not stir
Till March does yield a thaw,
I cannot wait to see again
The arrive once more.

When flowers bloom within the sun
And winter does depart,
Then I shall see the blossomed boughs
A sight to warm my heart,
But yet that time does seem so far
So many months ahead,
For scattered all around me now
The leaves are lying dead.

I look upon those ghostly trees
With branches lean and bare,
Now soon the ice shall grip the land
And with it bring despair,
A cold wind blows the night grows dark
As stars do shine above,
My dream shall be of daffodils
And season that I love.

ANDREW BLAKEMORE

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-leaves-are-slowly-turning/