Fall is made of visions of gold,
And tempratures turning crisp and cold.
Fall is made of colored leaves,
And pumpkin spice that's carried on a breeze.
Fall is made of an old fashioned hayride,
And a festive corn maze to get lost inside.
Fall is made of harvest moonlight,
And memories made on a front porch night.
Ron
to warm the Heart and jog the memory of
appreciation for this time of year…
I can smell that Pumpkin spice now!
Great poem…
Diana…🍁