Autumn's Lover

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The crisp air touches your skin not softly but rough, like an old lover. 

Dropped the tenderness a while ago, when leaves turned burgundy and gold. 

Yet your love is as heated as your fireplace in the coldest of nights. 

How comes you never for a glimpse of time questioned your love for that frozen beauty.

The sun covers the fields, meadows and forests in a veil of fiery orange for the last time.

The wind ensheathes you with the scent of all the spices from last night's dream.

taken by me

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