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Late October

the fall leaf spoke
a tiny crisp whisper
he tells a secret of nature
as the acorns cause inconvenience
and follow me home
dancing and singing along the path
sipping maple from my finger tips
the wind chaps my lips with cold air
and the trees continue to speak
wanting, dying to share a word
but I run back home
where my one best friend waits by the fire
flames heating our faces
As we fall asleep on the old hot quilt





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