Still as the softest morning dew,
Listless and lonely,
Breathing in notes, harmonizing
With the leaves as they dance,
Haphazardly, in rhythms – rhymes
Of light and serenity, faithful to the colors
Bleeding across hesitant callings…
August remembers when the songs grew weary,
Fading from the summer in blues,
Softest indigo and cerulean drowned by hues,
Of melancholy, soundless as the moments
Before yesterday spun out...
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