12 Marxh

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The leaves are burning

so high

flames chirping out

the pathway is blocked

a black mark

left behind

all the heat

is left unwind

turned clothes

below the sky

every whole is shattered

sight

smoke, robbing into the eyes

our vision at first

is cloud

heavy but no rain to fall

crossing it, path

will need more water

let's not allow it's mark

to be on us

Autumn leaves have no mercy

but summer will be the oven.

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