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This Time of Year
Why do all things seem to leave in the fall
As geese say farewell and they fly away
The chilly air filled with their bleating calls
Sad salutation for all who must stay
The autumn breeze brings a funeral pace
All the lifeless leaves now drift to the ground
This time of year brings cadaverous space
Suspension of life, suspension of sound
Dusk approaches on somber wings of haste
The trees whisper in tentative tones
It almost seems like life has been misplaced
And all that is left are cold winds and bones
So with remorse I think of you and I
And this time of year, when everything dies
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