Was it the taste

Was it the taste and scent of harvesting
Natures bounty, before she starts to sleep,
That to my idle mind my thoughts would bring,
The slow decay of life to make me weep.
Autumn’s glory has all too brief a stay,
That reaps the labours of the seasons past,
And soon the winter winds will have their way,
To claim all things that falls within its blast.
In me you see the seasons slip away,
Like a sunset that dips beneath the waves,
And though I am content to come what may
In you I see the love that I still crave.
This love that even in the end will grow,
To warm your heart amid the winter snow.


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