Cool and crisp the northern winds,
as it hails a time of change and slumber,
with natures clock that slowly ticks,
to dim eyes seeking rest.
From lush to withered colours change,
evidence of their demise,
hanging on with precious life,
until the very end.
As the wind stoutly blows it's mournful cry,
the final strand breaks to this world.
Drifting in sleep upon death's breeze,
to where the tombstone stands.
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Submission Name: leaves in autumn
