Appalachian melody drifting softly down
Instruments of gold and red and brown
Do not need no dulcimer or banjo-fiddle sound
For right now I'll watch these leaves come down
Chorus:
How peculiar liking old dead leaves against the sky
There is something more than meets the eye
Funny how I sit and watch these leaves come down from high
But these things are music to my eyes
Such a pretty song I see, have I been beguiled
This day is not imagination's child
Every time the leaves come down I've just got to smile
For they sing a melody so mild
Chorus
But these things are music to my eyes
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Mark didn't write a song about winter as I recall.
You have a poet's soul, Tim.
ReplyDeleteThere's something so full of dignity that leaves, as they die, throw off their green and flaunt their true colors. Going out with style. One last riotous fling before winter.