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  • The falling leaves drift
    by my window.
    Each leaf
    like a year of my life
    floating gently to the ground.
    Now forming a pile
    with the pressure crushing
    earlier memories into a powder.
    Then, those on the top, flying in the wind and drifting out of sight.

    I prefer summer, with the warmth of the sun and new growth everywhere.
    I feel the cold of fall already,
    and it gives me a chill.
    Is it the temperature? or the
    gathering leaves
    that makes me cold?
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