In this wet autumn, leaves slither in dark clumps under foot,
The late hangers on glow golden brown against black trunks,
All will be gone at the first wind but while they remain
Winter still seems far away, as yet an afterthought.
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A refined poetic imagination, harrison smith. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.
Such a nice poem, harrison smith. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.