Day Two Hundred and Seventy Three: Autumn 1

A decent title proved elusive so you’re left with the unimaginative “Autumn 1”. Sorry.

Autumn

Sad, drooping, falling from grace,
plumage falls off in
gold and yellow and brown,
akin to the feather shedding bird
at the end of its days.
What a sorry state to be in
but it’s not one you can repair,
the air changes, the sun retreats
and starts to steal your life away
leaving botanic dust
discarded like the skin we’re in.

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