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Early October

And I should follow advice but I will not listen.

The troubled night repairs the soul.

Winds rise and fall as the leaves depart.

Yellow, gold, brown and grey, Pages of my heart.

Uneasy silence I avoid, filled with birdsong.

Chaos, clutter in disarray where I belong


Blinded by tears as rain falls intermittently

A garment of grey cloud lifts upward

Laughter and song on the radio

Curled smoke spirals into the thin air







 
 
 

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