Seasons Pt Ii
You are an autumn day,
The mild tone set then and there.
The soft wind,
Such as I hope your touch.
And as leaves fall,
I pray for a metaphor,
One of change,
One of rebirth.
One of sleep,
One of awakening.
As colours range
From red to yellow,
Red for love,
Not surely of anger.
Yellow for greed,
How I hunger to speak.
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