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Autumn in New York
A night so dark
A day so bright
Both of which consist of me.
From the crisp air
To the singing of the wind
Remind me of things gone and by.
Riding down the unclear path
Passing people and places
Of which I may never see again.
During which I think to myself
How beautiful creation is
As I stop riding and look around
I realize the beauty of life
For certain things come and go
But night and day are constant.
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