wild child

fields of grace

blissful intake

smell the fresh lake

feel the leaves shake

of trees as they go into sleep

covered in snow

birds say good bye

sun goes home earlier than i

see all the colours

seasons of change

always in movement

where we all remain

earthly intake of fertile grounds

pumpkins taste like they are so round

feeling the breeze

looking at coloured leaves

as all of our skins have the same glow

change is change always the same

The End

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