Overhead, the autumn leaves rustle in the wind
Crisp, brown and red they shake
Like little bells or a sound not completely pinned
They enchant with every noise they make.

A kite flys in the blustery, blue sky
Its little boy fumbles with its string.
The kite pulls him with it, but he refuses to cry.
He won't let it defeat him, for he is the kite's king.

At home, the boy's mother cooks dish after dish.
She works and she cleans, and she most of all sings.
Her meals are known to be truly delish,
And she's known for all the joy that she brings.

Kate runs through the leaf-covered park,
Her best friend following only footsteps apart.
They laugh and the sing, but it quickly gets dark,
So through the slides and the swings they artfully dart.

Such a sad day to be caught at work;
The head of this family is nowhere to be seen.
"Maybe he'll be home," Kate adds with a smirk.
Then in steps their father, looking nice and clean.

The family sits down at their great, mahogony table,
Food lined up from one end to the other.
Their leader is to pray, but isn't sure if he is able
For right in front of him, so tempting, is the butter.