11.28.01
Cold fingers, gold sunset clouds
crisp cold evenings
crunchy leaves, in mounds
frost on my windshield,
cold wood floors
I dig out the boxes of sweaters
from last fall
I love it all--
the scents, tastes, feelings
of fall.
Cold fingers, gold sunset clouds
crisp cold evenings
crunchy leaves, in mounds
frost on my windshield,
cold wood floors
I dig out the boxes of sweaters
from last fall
I love it all--
the scents, tastes, feelings
of fall.
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