"When Yellow Leaves, or None, or Few, do Hang."

 

We pause and watch the sunset fade.

Winter comes and the songbirds leave.

When yellow leaves hang upon the last warm limb.

Their bright color against the dark damp bark.

Then they fall, one by one

till some, then few, then none do hang.

But though the leaves fall

And the snow now comes,

together we’ll feel the warmest day.

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