Our Intertwine Branches

This was supposed to be a piece about fall for a club I'm in, but the point was lost somewhere in it. If you can tell me where you think I got lost, please say something.

Our colors are changing

The time of our prosper is ending

And the sting of the promise of tomorrow's cold sinks in

We don't care

Even when our pride has crumbled and fallen

Even when we grow defensless to the bitter, long winter

We grip to the only thing that has not given into the changing seasons

Our intertwined branches

The End

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