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Rest
Time it catches up
To all of us I guess
You can try to avoid it
Or enjoy it like the rest
No matter what you try
Father time he always wins
Autumn wind it blows the leaves
And the leaves they fall again
One by One they leave the branch
Still attatched to there stem
They all hit the ground
And other leaves will grow again
From Spring to snow,
It seems to go
From green to gold then red
The streams have froze
They cease to flow
But believe they'll flow again
Copyright ©
John Conde
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