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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Nature >> ID #561700 |
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Leaves of gold and fire
falling nearly sideways in paths that only the wind can tell it howls around me warning me of a coming winter a nip of cold bites at my face while I slide my hands into toasty pockets soon I am cloaked in an autumn mist bleak and gray as if in a storm each step bringing a crunch of an unseen leaf long dead, fallen ready to be swept away
© Copyright 2002 Mark C Bradley (UN: auric at Writing.Com).
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