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Nov 2013
Remembering the days of old, when father raked the leaves of

Golden, yellow, brown and orange

Jumping into the huge crisp pile, I tossed them all about

As my father raked them on top of me

I would creep out from under the pile laughing.

With leaves hanging on my hair and clothing

What a wonderful season. What a wonderful reason

Just to play in the leaves.

Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
lovetowritepoetry
Written by
lovetowritepoetry  In the city
(In the city)   
489
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