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- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Autumn
Poem Info
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The weather had turned.
Underlying the flat surface heat
Of September's Indian summer,
I felt the faintest sting of winter,
Like the first delicate touch of the razor's edge
Before it cuts the soft flesh beneath.
She sat on the bench's edge.
Misery masked in face and hands,
She smiled, and brightly as always,
But I knew, I felt the chill.
We had reached the equinox, the season's cusp,
And had begun our slide to winter.
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