Yes, it is autumn. You see the pale tinge
The leaves imply. They know what will come next,
But won't admit it. What's a leaf to do,
Feeling its death, but with no voice to kvetch,
No hand to raise in protest? It's a fair
Fall from here and will be crunchy then,
A lot of company, no one to say
There, there, we were quite green back then, you know?
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