As the leaves drop

at Poet’s row,

I see your eyes sparkle

in the hues of the fall.

The gentle breeze whistles

as the spirit of “The Big Apple”

spreads to every corner

of the city’s lungs.

The park is colored

with captivating tones

of endless yellows and oranges

and why not?

Bits of red as well,

seemingly all, just for you,

my love.

It is in this hallowed corner

where your smile shines the most,

while your head full of dreams realizes,

that your heart has been taken,

on an autumn’s romance,

by the spirit of the park

and by my very own,

while I recite this verse

made out of precious fallen leaves,

and my infatuated heart and soul,

succumbing all to you my love,

right here at Poet’s Row.