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Nov 2024
Draped in golden perspire
from branch to bough,
Autumn lingers at the rim
of morning's hazy brew.
As leaves release their hold
in orange streams,
these fears and dreams too
fall with a patient certainty,
along with what was and
what could have been,
rousing not the sky or earth
but a fire within me.
“No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face."

― The Autumnal, John Donne
Vitæ
Written by
Vitæ  28/F/Here
(28/F/Here)   
137
       Zeno, Vitæ and Carlo C Gomez
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