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The Annual End, and Beginning

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The field is so rich,
and clear,
We are afraid to breathe.
Afraid to disturb the peace.
The reds and oranges
Of the autumn
Blaze and grasp our attention.
The leaves left behind by the season
Trickle by,
Down the river.
Some leaves still hang on,
watching the season end.
Then it’s their time to fall.
They are down,
The trees are empty.
Until next autumn
When the process will happen
All over again.





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XellaThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jul. 4, 2010 at 10:03 pm
i am going to post this comment in order for you to read it and before you do, you think that someone has commented something reallly nice. but really this comment is not on your poem, which i haven't even read, but on the fact that you were wishfully thinking, and your wish didn't come true
 
XellaThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jul. 4, 2010 at 10:05 pm
you were wishfully thinking before your read this comment. because you saw it at the bottom of the page... and without even reading it or knowing who wrote it, you got all happy because someone read your poem and they cared enough to comment. but you had been wishfully thinking for nothing... because your wish didn't even come true.
 
XellaThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jul. 4, 2010 at 10:08 pm
for this comment is not on your poem or how great it was. i did not even read it, by the way. but rather this comment is actually about the fact that you judged a book by it's cover, dear author of the poem above. and you thought that since there is a comment that is below your poem, and this person cared enough to comment, this comment will have made your day. but, alas, it didn't, and your wishfully thinking mind was put at rest, and your wish still didn't come true.
 
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