weary like a mother on her death bed
October nights are cool
cool like the chills down your spine,
Death tickling your back
October nights fill with whilrlwinds of
orange leaves that never stand a
chance against the threats of winter
October nights are bitter but better spent
alone because they are so filling
You listen to the trees rustle,
listen to them surrender to the change
they cannot resist
And it is beautiful,
They are beautiful
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