My first autumn away from home

Since I went away for good

No winter boots, no farms nor fields

No cider, no frozen water wheels

There's metal things on grassy fields

There's falling leaves in my hair

No driving to Storm King this year

I give instead my Eastern appeal

We lived in the East while the world was asleep

We counted our days till the orange and red leaves

We drove through the plains to a place with no snow

We conquered our dreams and made sure to make more