Elizabeth Kray

She comes in late September
Walks gently through the door
And dares you to remember
The clothes that summer wore.

She kisses cheeks and noses
With cold October air,
She bids farewell to roses
And dyes the maple´s hair.

She beckons trick-or-treaters
Beneath a moonlit sky
And fills Thanksgiving eaters
With homemade pumpkin pie.

She leaves in late December,
Walks gently out the door
And begs you to remember
The amber dress she wore.