I paint the woods in fire and gold, a fleeting crown before the cold. I whisper through the amber air, and lay soft carpets everywhere. I bid the songbirds fly away, tucking the blooms in earth’s decay.

My first four letters are when you yearn for someone My ending keeps doctors away.

I wander slowly, but never leave home, through gardens and meadows I quietly roam. Take my head once, and I’ll hang things for you, take it once more and you’ll feel unwell, too.

We may be blind and with a weird nose, but be wary of your skin as there can be a lot of those.

I am known for outlasting kings in sealed stone rooms, but I do not sour though seasons gnaw at tombs. You might Name a loved one after me.