Autumn Memory

I was walking by on an autumn day,

To see the boats that coast the quay.

The crisp, chilled air that came from the north,

carried sweet memories, it did bring forth.

The birch and ash trees that lined the street,

showed tiny shoots that sprouted accrete.

When the leaves that crunched just right beneath,

I came to sit at a bench in a heath.

Between the dense wild trees and fescue,

was the assuring but bitter sight of blue.

I smiled to myself and admired at how,

How effortlessly driven were the scow.