The poem I have chosen is the falling leaves.
You saw brown leaves dropping from the tree. In a forest was lots of brown leaves falling from the trees with a season called Autumn with all life of plants dying out and waiting for a couple of mouths for a new life called spring. The trees are getting cold with just small little weak brown breaches and some are big and some are small, and there are rusty leaves that rip very easily when they land on the fall nice and softly without hearing a little sound like bag rattling.