The night is drawing cold again,
and fall is in the air.
The azure blue of summer’s twilight
dwindles in despair.
Memories of good and bad
and somewhere in between.
Living in October gold
and Autumn’s glistening gleam.
Cold gray days with barren trees
assembled as to march -
Portraying grand processions
that wither in the heart.
Memories of good and bad,
some may come and go.
Feelings freeze in morning’s frost,
waiting for the snow.
A chill runs through my body
as I simmer and I stare;
My soul discovers pieces
which I forgot were there.
Within a season that used to bring
such sorrow low and fair -
My soul revives reborn again
and so I do prepare.
-JW 1995?
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