Time passes by and darkness begins to descend. But still the trees will not bend, the darkness creeps ever closer and brings the crisp cold air, yet the trees do not bend. The air gets colder as we all get older, here the first leaves fall. The little creatures, they creep and they crawl. Gather together food for the season. Store it up all for a reason. For soon the last leaf will fall. The north wind begins to call. But the trees, they try to stall. The grey skies start to form. Be prepared, here comes the storm. The leaves begin to change color as they whisper to each other. The leaves begin to pile upon the ground. In the silence, what is that sound? Children and adults alike come to play. While the trees begin to bend and pray. For soon there will be no more leaves; and the people will not stay. As the people leave the leaves begin to fade. Soon the trees will fall asleep, for what feels like a decade. As the last person goes home, the last leaf will fall and the trees will be all alone. When death finally comes, its breathe well be blown. And the final leaf will fall and whither away. No more leaves but death, darkness and the cold are here to stay. But weary heart do not dismay, for it all must be this way. For life will come back, one day. Flowers will bloom; all will fade away, the sadness and gloom.