'season of Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness' By John Keats
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We tender that special moment that was well earned, spent in our fabled youth's labyrinth passages beholden to young hearts locked in eternal time for e'er so oft consequent the key of memories call. It beckons me now in subsequent years of a pensive soul tryst with thyself. Loneliness fades grasped by natures blooming redolences proffering counsel to evaporate my soul resplendent aspiration to utterance, awakening welcomed birds to flight and favor a dusky crown bejeweled with distant stars flickering arousal as a moon in its laborious mood o'er guiding men to sort out words of worn-out paper neatly tucked away neath backseats of a row vehicles parked on a hillside crowded lane. A cooled engine warms my car as I leave behind a season of mist and mellow fruitfulness.
2020 January 28
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” By John Keats
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