Late morning of a Thursady

the bright sunny day on my balcony,
the charming tango dance of the trees,
follow the rhytm of the music,
created by the wind of November,
singing a good bye song to the autumn,
as the winter season is about to begin,

no need of papers and pens,
autumn itself is a poem of love,
where the beauty, the mystery,
the excitement, and the tragedy,
all are melting as one.