Creative Writing Killing Autumn

Like the title. I do like reviews and critisism, and I don't get much of it on her, so Im challenging you to become more active (I should too) And every one that reads this, just at least drop a note. You might not know, but as of last week Ive never written an ounce of poetry.

“Killing Autumn”

Jack Hung up his lantern,
Letting it flicker in the rain.
As his tan skin pebbled with the cold,
But melting in the flame.

One drop fell,
With and accuracy from hell,
What fire there was is no more.
As the porch went dim,
The wick’s life grew thin,
And Jack soon sank to his knees,
For suddenly his heart felt so sore.

He rolled onto his back,
And let go of his sack.
It’s contents became strewn on the floor.

And there lay the leaves,
The coming of winter cleaves,
Which he tried so hard to put back on the boughs,
Before the frozen water began to pour.

Jack’s breath begun to halter,
The soft breeze came to a stop,
His honey eyes started closing,
The indifferent rain lost its drop.

And unfeeling blanket tossed over his face,
A white shadow gliding into view.
His complexion turned pale,
And as in all sad tales,
It lost its usual gay hue.

Auburn hair now layed tangled in the snow,
One last flake covering the remnants,
Of the Jack life used to know.

There rested an exhausted lantern,
Shattered on the floor,
The crippled trees ran,
To petrify their core.
Nothing left to question.
No one to implore,
Who hath slain Autumn,
And where’s Jack forevermore? ​