Begins the slow melancholy dance of Autumn.
Fallen colored waxen tiles cover the last
remaining sprouts of green, that not so long
...
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This read was like seeing through Capt. Poe's eyes. You have a sailor's spirit.
'Fallen colored waxen tiles cover the last/remaining sprouts of green, that not so long/ago were new' - - fantastic description. As for the tale, a very accurate portrayal (I read stories of life on the sea) , the final stanzas express a terrible wait.