Autumn

The Autumn's dress is made of gold.
Her eyes are bright, but smile is cold. 
The only child of summer heat
And winter's frost she is, indeed. 
And as i walk along the streets,
I watch so many dying leaves...
They are a noble sacrifice 
Of coldest smile and brightest eyes.
The Autumn is a friend of wind,
As he enjoys her perfect tint.
She is a Queen of her own ways,
Beloved by grey and rainy days.