Modern Poetry: Autumn is coming.

Standing on the bridge, the autumn wind stroked me with cold hands. I'm afraid it's the only person closest to me at the moment! The cool wind blows everything, trees. Grass. Flowers. Resist with their perseverance, swing their strong and weak bodies when they win, they dance, and the river gives them a bang. Everything is beaming and optimistic.

A yellow leaf falls.

I was told that it was autumn.

But this season, it will still be sultry.

Sometimes there is no coolness.

Some leaves change from green to yellow.

Some weeds began to wither.

However, this city

Just lack the temperature of this season.

It is the fallen leaves that interpret autumn.

Maybe, I don't know how to interpret time.

Only colors can be used.

Apply hard and let the wind blow away.

In fact, autumn and golden yellow mean maturity or harvest.

We often look back on the years when we planted seeds.

Then look up and look forward to the harvest season.

Get something

I often look up to it.

Because I like this color, I want to decorate the inside.

That will make you feel at ease, because you have finally gained something.

Just like you fell in love at first sight.