Autumn Rush
Leaves begin to turn and fall
And pile against the fence and
Scatter against the wall.
I think of you this time of year..
August in my heart,
September in my ear.
This winter will be cold--
Trees stripped, without cheer,
And I am growing old
Without you here.
© Anne 2008
"Absence is to love as wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small and kindles the great."
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