37 lines
711 B
Markdown
37 lines
711 B
Markdown
---
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categories:
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- Poetry
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date: '2014-11-10 00:00:00 +0000'
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tags:
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- Fall
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title: Autumn Synesthesia
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---
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The trees branch out their reds and yellows.
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Their last battle cry before the frost.
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The further north, the more pronounced
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As they recall the life they lost.
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Shouting in color upon deaf ears,
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Such beauty produced at a deadly cost.
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The reds rage on
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With blistering hate.
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"Is there no escape
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From our inevitable fate?"
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The orange reminisce
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On the seasons before.
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"Winter is knocking,
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But Spring is next door."
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The yellows enjoy
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The weather while it lasts.
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"Best to live in the present
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Than the future or past."
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The browns mutter softly
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The last lesson to learn.
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"From dust I arose,
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So to dust I return." |