Frosted Windowpanes
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Line Gautheir's Bite Size 94 Contest ~ December 4, 2024
Autumn always seems to sing a mournful melody
as its voice carries softly upon the chilled wind.
It's a melancholy song for souls in wistful notes
while withered leaves tumble, whirling aground.
They dance a rhythmic ballet like prima ballerinas
as I watch them through frosted windowpanes.
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2024
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