When songs play sweet upon a gentle wind
and day is breaking bathed in autumn light
'tis then that such an agony descends
within the deep desire for delight.
A long forgotten yearning to be kissed
entices me when coral skies are new.
The fragrance of the harvest fields amidst
the dying leaves bring memories of you.
The winter waits in solemn shades of grey
--a priestess of enduring solitude.
The flames of aspen keep her grip at bay
as every dream of passion is renewed.
The autumn comes and lifts a golden sun
and years engraved into the midnight fade.
When time is stilled the music has begun,
'tis then I hear September Serenade.
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