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by Charlotte Taylor

Love, shine, cry

Against the blue sky

The ripe grasses turn golden

As the maples turn old

When the gardens at its low 

The blue sky starts to glow 

Unruly, the garden becomes in fall

As the orange sedge peaks it all

Fall is when the dogwoods’ leaves blaze scarlet 

As the sun intensifies the quintessentially autumnal palette

Love, shine cry

Against the garden that grows