The Breeze whispers,
Caressing gently into my ears,
Sharing secrets and gossips,
An oracle, a seer.
It tingles my spine,
Telling me of a joyous dream,
As the Sun set from behind,
Bridging seasons, from fall to spring.
Where flowers bloom,
Green leaves sway in display,
Before the withering tune,
Start browning and decay,
The Breeze feels it all,
Seasons that change,
As the leaves starts to fall,
In dryness...
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