The room is filled with dim light
A jazz record is playing.
The walls look through the eyes of old photos
Leaves whirl to the beat of the music.
This is not a dream, this is just autumn.
A jazz record is playing.
The walls look through the eyes of old photos
Leaves whirl to the beat of the music.
This is not a dream, this is just autumn.
Keywords: jazz record autumn poetry potal music leaves figurative retro monochrome grisaille gramophone