When Summer leaves, Autumn comes rushing in. But, no one ever sings about Summer Leaves. So today I’ve listed part of the lyrics for Autumn Leaves. Use a phrase, word grouping or line in your poem, or as an inspiration and write that colorful piece.


(Lyrics by: Jacques Prévert in French and Johnny Mercer in English)

The falling leaves drift by my window
The falling leaves of red and gold
I see your lips the summer kisses
The sunburned hands I used to hold

Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall…


Hands I Used to Hold

I grasped Mom’s finger –
stared into her loving eyes –
my first breath of air.

As a child, always
held her hand to cross the street
and for bedtime prayer.

Sometimes as a teen
I would grasp her hand as we
walked on Naples’ beach.

Elderly, and soon
to pass, she gripped my hands as
though to save herself

as sensation of
falling overtook her, and
she needed grounding.

An honor to hold
dying hands of one who held
my hands in her womb.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020



The lips that captured your smile
have left their mark on my heart
as the summer fades from view.
There is me and you and this
distance between.  We have seen
the sunset of our days together
and now the weather turns colder.
We are older and the lips the summer kisses
will leave a lasting goodbye
as Autumn leaves start to fly.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2020

71 thoughts on “PROMPT #305 – SUMMER LEAVES ?

  1. Are the leaves already turning up there, kids? We’re into the tag end of summer weather where you never know what you will get, but this morning looks fine.
    Thanks for the prompt. Took me off my regular route a bit.

    Sunset found us at a station somewhere
    something like Art Deco Miami.
    The long light turned the sleekest train
    in all creation gold. The Summer Limited.

    And I was just a little bit like Marilyn.
    And you were every inch the best if you.
    Conductor took our tickets,
    stamped our hands with gold,
    and led us to our stateroom
    as the light began to blue
    out on the world
    outside the Summer Limited.

    They served champagne and chocolates
    while Orchestras played
    the old songs played for lovers since Day One.
    And we danced all evening long
    aboard the world
    of the Summer Limited.

    While we sleep like coffee spoons
    the wheels melt the rails.
    No turning back, Old Winter
    meets The Limited at dawn.
    If the yawning station is cold,
    we’re not. We have each other
    and the gold on our hands
    from the Summer Limited.

  2. Yes, Barbara. The colors are starting to bloom up on the eastern end of the Eerie Lake. As for your poem, this mesmerizes. The colorful descriptions you present are as vivid as anything I’ve see. And as one who grew up around trains ( not far from where your Jim might remember), this got my attention in a big way. Well done!

  3. ROGER WILLIAMS PLAYS, by Walter J Wojtanik (as J. P. Walters)

    Roger Williams plays
    as the days dwindle –
    we search for kindling
    and Oolong tea brews.
    The leaves the hue of a barn fire
    take a flyer and are tossed;
    drift past the window
    Roger Williams plays
    trees sway in the breeze
    pleased to be rid of molting
    vegetation in celebration.
    Falling leaves of red
    and gold embossed with
    a time stamp to be trampled
    and piled, hours wiled away –
    kids at play. Roger Williams too.
    Summer kisses forgotten,
    hands sun-burned and gnarled
    you went away, winter’s song
    plays. I miss you most darling
    when Roger Williams plays

    **A repost of an earlier poem on subject.

  4. Pingback: Summer – Poetry by Debi Swim

  5. Summer

    You’re leaving on a stilted slant of light
    Indifferent, cold-shouldered you walk away
    The evenings have become odd to my sight
    Shadows in shadows, sepia array
    Even the hummingbirds and geese take flight.

    I say my goodbyes to your fading back
    Used to your vanishing ways. But the air –
    spice, leather, burnt fruit a hint of cognac,
    warms the cruel saudade – autumn’s flair
    that buffers the winter winds till you’re back.

  6. Kiss of Fall

    leaves of gold outside the restaurant window we stand together
    in a different slant of light seasons born with a whisper
    seasons borne moments shared and passing years an eternal dream green leaves turned gold riches of what we know she brings me a refill
    of iced tea in a to-go cup before I even ask a knowing smile a weary limb a leaf falls fallen leaves dance a dervish in the wind we turn to each other our hands touch I read her a poem silence an unspoken understanding

  7. Summer Green

    Good morning, green leaves, glad to see you there.
    My window frames you like a piece of art.
    So summery, as I sit in my chair.
    Though I know summer will soon surely part.
    The calendar says fall’s about to start.
    You’ll look lovely in your bright, golden dress.
    Autumn has always been dear to my heart.
    But I’ll miss summer green, I must confess.


    The autumn leaves of red and gold
    drift down to limn the weary wold
    as summer birds depart the scene
    and winter birds warm waning green,

    and though the world seems sudden old,
    the autumn leaves of red and gold
    lend gaiety, a bit uncouth,
    but wanton as a springtime youth.

    They sparkle when the sun shines through
    and glisten against the cobalt blue;
    the autumn leaves of red and gold
    turn hushed October mornings bold,

    and as I watch them leave the trees,
    I feel content that the coming freeze
    is heralded by grace foretold:
    the autumn leaves of red and gold.

    • You are way kind, William. I always felt lyricists are exceptional poets, so your words (as always) are high praise. Mercer was highly gifted as I assume was Prévert, but I don’t speak French. 😉

  9. Youth’s Dreams

    Beneath the green of Summer’s canopy
    we picnicked on baguettes, and softened Brie.
    Your lips did press to mine, a Summer kiss.
    With a sip of Chardonnay we felt pure bliss.

    A silhouette of leaves upon the lake
    tattooed shoulders, swimming ’til we ached.
    A seafood dinner, side of sunburn
    which did not deter making love, we learned.

    ‘Twas season of our youth’s exploration.
    For several Summers, our expectation
    was that we would always be together,
    we’d take our vows, we’d promise forever.

    That bloom of youth now edges toward Winter,
    We are married, though not to each other.

  10. Late to the game again. And I thought retirement would be slower. Right!!

    The Pool is Cooler

    Spent a couple hours in the pool today
    That’s what we do down Florida way
    Laid on my back looking up at tree
    And watched leaves and acorns fall on me

    It’s warm down this way
    A typical Florida fall
    The pool’s a bit cooler
    But still nice after all
    Just got a solar blanket
    Let the sun do its thing
    Might swim ‘til November
    Before winter’s sting

    By that time the leaves will have fallen
    A new swim season starts with the pollen
    We’ll reopen the pool in the spring
    Or we may choose to not close the thing

    Ahh. Florida.
    Y’all come down!

  11. Late Afternoon

    The trail pounded
    into some gray brown hardpan
    summer kissed now
    by farewells tumbling
    from cottonwoods along the river

    scalloped hearts sliding
    down the rise each different
    in the golden hues of autumn
    lemon and goldenrod some
    sun bright others tarnished
    by various vicissitudes: drought
    voracious insects pelting rain

    but their colorful message shines
    beyond those minor flaws
    slickened surfaces catching
    last sun slicing shade
    cast by the old hedge tree
    making purple asters wave
    on woody stems their lifted heads
    awaiting just one more kiss
    as the leaves sift, settle.

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