Alone
Standing on the charred edges
of a forgotten time
leaves raining on waiting Earth
wind whispering in chimes
this is archaic autumn
holding fast with children of the fallen
other places in other worlds
sing their gentle callings
gold, amber, orange, red
the colors of a pallet
subjects of stories
told by the long dead
leaf has turned
as pigments will
and the earth again gets her fill
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