Auburn Leaves of Spring

You came to visit me in the country
From one thousand miles away
I live in the no suburb nor city
But it has a strong essence of early May

You've never seen anything like it
A land with color and sounds
For you land is always pure white
A meek and innocent town

It is the spring season in the month of mother
But you told me tales of the September season
And thought that I see the warmest color
You still see cold hues, shade of unreason

Flowers blossom in nature, which you rarely see
Leaves look like watercolors and pastels
Some of which you couldn't believe
They even look like the should sound of church bells

I wish you could've seen the spring up here
But alas, it is still raining every hour
It is damp, cold, and fog unclear
This past April brought us but dead, Mary flowers

Though this season was a miserable one
I got you a special gift that I hope you find
Cherishable for a few, not long
Though it too will eventually crumble, I'm sure you won't mind

It is simply three leaves from the old oak in my yard, next to the fern
You may find it strange, but they are not green
They are orange, purple, and auburn
Or maybe something in-between

Since you have never experienced Autumn my way –
Colorful, joyous, and carefree
Enjoy these leaves I preserved for you until today:
A gift that is not cold and white, from you to me