A September Welcome
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It can be a wrench to leave summer behind. As we slip suntanned feet into smart leather brogues, I can’t help thinking of Jacques Prévert's poem, “Les Feuilles Mortes”, which became the lyrics to the jazz standard “Autumn Leaves”. It sums up that reluctant passage to cooler days and a yearning for the sun.
The falling leavesDrift by my windowThe autumn leavesOf red and goldI see your lipsThe summer kissesThe sunburned handsI used to hold
Since you went awayThe days grow longAnd soon I'll hearOld winter's songBut I miss you most of all, my darlingWhen autumn leaves start to fall
Since you went awayThe days grow longAnd soon I'll hearOld winter's songBut I miss you most of all, my darlingWhen autumn leaves start to fall
Yes, I miss you most of all, my darlingWhen autumn leaves start to fall
