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Autumn Chill

A blast seeps in from the east
Restless, cold and biting

The sky darkens
Night
No moon in sight
The scorching summer just a memory

The leaves from the trees no longer fresh or alive
But old and withered now
The garden still

Silence has fallen
November, a new month, approaches
Lozzamus
Written by Lozzamus
Published
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badmalthus
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