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Daniel Long
Poems
Dec 2018
Falling Leaves
What strange messages
has autumn handed us!
They hold their branch,
by their withering root.
Once flushed in greens,
they fall, die, Indian gold.
Blanketing our solid grounds,
quilting our grey ways.
A poem about my favorite season.
My poetry/short story website: www.gothicsurrealism.com
#autmn
#fall
#die
Written by
Daniel Long
31/M/Massachusetts
(31/M/Massachusetts)
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