Autumn always reigned
on the tree of my dreams
Multicolored leaves
and angling twigs
Leaves always seemed
to leave on pilgrims
To the god of death
and his temple of twisted limbs.
Passersby always heed
the aging hues of their rims
With a kind word or two,
adieu they always bid.
Buds always lead
a life scant and grim
Dawn saw their spark
but by dusk they dimmed.
Autumn always reigned
on the tree of my dreams
Will my eyes ever greet
the onset of spring?
…now that you’re here
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