Poem for her 958

Falling Leaves

The leaves were piled high

So high they were taller than the apple trees

We climbed up a hill

Looked down at the pile

I wanted to dive in

She said 

I'd only be found in spring

 It was going to make great compost

Leaf piles are great

Some trees were still full of color

Leaves falling in the breeze

Winter just around the corner

A few birthdays too

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.