Autumn

Leaves become red and yellow as if someone painted on it. I see a tall tree with rough, hard bark. The leaves sway as the wind blow. I see unusual, red, spiky roses that I like to grow in my garden. I see birds playing, like me, playing with my friends. I hear people in the apartment, opening the garage. I also listen to the leaves that were there in the middle of summer. The autumn leaves there are falling from trees that turned yellow, orange, and red as if someone painted on the leaves on the tree. I smell Aloe, which smelled like grass that we mowed. I smell my backyard apples, refreshing as mint. I tasted my apple. They were as sweet as a piece of chocolate in the middle of Candyland. I tasted my oranges. It was refreshing as being in the fridge in the middle of the summer. I feel the rough, caramel tree bark in the front of my house. I touched the soft autumn leaves that stood in a pile on the sidewalk. I jumped in and laughed, like an otter in the ocean. I stepped on grass, shivering in the cold weather. I feel the roughness of the wooden fences as if the barriers were wood, chucked by a woodchuck. Leaves fall, fruits harvest. I like autumn; it is unique.