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Colour Change

The wind has come a-chuckling
Through the autumn trees.
The leaves are all a-tremble
For fear of any breeze.

Just a tiny puff of air
Can cause them each to fall,
And in a little while
None will be left at all.

Thus autumns’ gracious colour
Will lie at each trees’ feet,
As branches brown then wait
Winters’ icy grip to greet.
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Leaf Fall

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Glory
fallen to earth,
to lie
quiet and still.
Your colour
a memory
to comfort at will.

Joy
from our loving,
uncounted
the cost.
Your essence
remembered,
your presence now lost.
E F Woolley©