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Autumn (Poem)

As the long summer draws to a close,

the tired sun lies low in the sky

adorning the clouds with hues of orange and rose.

Autumn brings with it a gentle mist; breathed out like a sigh.

A cold sheet floating over the hills.

Wisps weave silvery white between dense treetops,

stretching out toward the spills

of light that gild the leaves. The illuminated copse

flourishing deep green, through fiery red to a yellow crown.

With a swift breeze leaves become scales

alive, swimming and gleaming in the glow. But soon all will be brown,

when that biting frost of winter finally prevails,

cascading the land in an ice that does bleach and burn

your colours but not the memory I will treasure until your return.