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Bring back the dried leaves of Autumn
Now that the branches are bare
Make the way home in the vanishing sun
Blissfully free of all need and all care
If any, not room for many
Doesn't take long to decide
Who would make do with a sepia hue
Chasing a phantom, missing a ride
Move slow, hauling a full load
Hardly a moment to spare
Dares you to travel in tallest of shadows
For a reward which remains to be shared
You let her urge you to new fascinations
Sparkling eyes and the flow of her hair
Waiting to find nothing special
Maybe too sentimental
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