Love Of Autumn
M
Mark R Slaughter
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Autumn calls -
Her whistling song
Of yellow
Dies in sorrow-red;
Morrow greys
Upon the blue.
We bend into Her breeze,
Hide sienna-summer skin
To shiver in our coats,
Ghosting ‘til the spring.
Yet we kiss Her warm,
Then rise to greet the winter;
And in the ice
Recall Her blush,
The manic leaves.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
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