Fairlight falls down
side-poured through silver
trunks dripping gold

Soft feet crinkle steps
along a path hidden
under the crispy cakes

The third of March,
we two are three,
Mother and son

One foot forward,
a thought not repeated
on this path trodden once

Soft, bright and smooth
hands held in safety;
the comfort of a paw

Knowing no place to go
into the autumn stride
compelled towards the light

My first attempt at a triversen (as discussed at dVerse) using the No Theme Thursday picture attached as a prompt