The morning
The morning
Dew sets on the grass
Light flickers like happy memories
My soul greets the morning rays
The fall leaves float like feathers down the street
As old life exits the world
The cold wind whips my face like a taskmasters whip
It is almost winter.
Frost Covers the dying grass as it mourns for the sun
Walking on the street I can feel the earth all around me
As the cold air enters my mouth
I can feel the piercing cold of the coming winter.
Breath Appears like a ghastly figure
It’s morning
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