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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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