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Autumn calls
 

Summer’s span grows ever shorter,

Falling leaves, first sign of autumn,

Darker mornings, shorter days,

Aloft a winter getaway.
 

A firewood friendly time of year,

Broom in hand, the leaves are cleared,

Wood is chopped and stacked in rows,

Scuttle’s full, the fireside glows.
 

Christmas fast approaching, candles

In the hall, forget the lights an’ all the

Hype, its about a baby after all. A star

That brought a promise, some heed

And, some neglect, a promise that

Brought love and peace to this world

From the next.
 

© Joseph G Dawson

 



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Autumn calls