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Autumn of Love
Decaying leaves rustle,
reminiscent of our love.
Petrichor fills the air,
my hands covered by your glove.
Forlorn branches dance with the breeze,
brittle and depressed.
All the birds leave them behind,
seeking a warmer tree to rebuild a nest.
Water droplets land on my umbrella,
carrying the coldness of the death of hope.
A warning we once dismissed,
walking blindly together on a gilded tightrope.
Gray water ripples,
pebbles hitting the lake bottom.
Now, I stroll only with the wind,
whispering in my ear that it is
autumn.
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