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End of Autumn
Resplendent in a golden gown
Autumn sits on the hillside
She talks with the trees
And leaves a gold blush on their cheeks
Winter does not stir
It is not his time to rule
He lays silent, waiting for his chance
To appear, unexpected
Autumn’s radiance is slowly fading
Her satin gown becoming grey
Cold seizes her in icy hands
Leaving the delicate memory of dancing leaves
poem
by
Waltzing Mouse
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