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Fading Summer
Spring, always
just a few weeks away.
Dark branches begin to bud wet
I knew you couldn't stay.
How I remember our first Fall,
and the long Winter most of all.
I must make amends and start again,
isn't it funny how love resets.
Wi' misty hands of time
we're bound to forget,
our fading summer.
Copyright ©
Quoth Theraven
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