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She stood there
Staring at autumn’s draft and winter’s cold
She stood there staring at the gently falling leaves
The shades in amber, red and gold
Heaving a sigh and letting go
Parading their last glorious finery
In a cascading dance void of any fury
And in that instant
Far away at a distance
She understood
Staring at winter’s cold and autumns passed
She is the last of the amber red and gold
The last to lie on the non-existent grass

- Vincent Immanuel Pang