The glory of the trees is no longer there
The horizons view is rather bare
Where golden colours of harvest was ablaze
Winters winds have come and swept it away
And now we await the moment when
The snow will come and descend
A blanket of white, crisp and still
Autumns death giving way as it does
To the hope of a fresh start
A new beginning
Where the whispers of spring will soon fill the horizon once again
Beautiful
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