Death of Summer

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It was October already.
I could tell by the sepia leaves
That hung from the eroded branches,
For it was the chartreuse maple that lay face down.

I could tell by the sepia leaves
Our now brass lawn had withered,
For it was the chartreuse maple that lay face down.
The harlequin trees of the July lush were distant memories.

Our Now brass lawn had withered
Like the lives of the tulips os August amaranth.
The harlequin trees of the July lush were distant memories
As was the flight of the helicopters on the pavement.

Like the lives of the tulips of August amaranth
The downtrodden acorns are mourned on the ground
As was the flight of the helicopters on the pavement.
It was October already.





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