When the maple leaves turn
and the unexpected sorrow at your absence
has weathered the storm to become a waiting time
Sorrow I had no right to own
here under the old oak tree
the breeze is my thoughts,
wayward and untamed
'Til it all stills, and I breathe in
then out
enough to quit this minor chord
I leave
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Halloween is Right around the corner.. .
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Thanks for the fine read, Lady Blaze. Write on..... 
Keep writing, dear friend.. 
