An Evening Walk in Autumn– a poem by Pip, the Bacon Poet.
The leaves are falling on the ground,
I walk, feet crunching, crinkly sound.
Colder it gets, so home I hurry,
goodness no, is that a flurry?
Home lights seen, burning bright,
beckon comfort this autumn night.
Then at the door, with aroma so great,
is savory love upon my plate.