Non-Erotic PoetryIt's Getting ColderI thought it was snow,
but it turned out to be those fluffy white things
from cottonwood or dandelions;
I'm not sure which.
I just know it wasn't snow;
the concrete's still dry
and not sleety slick.
The leaves are still holding to the trees
so I think it's still summer,
but it feels like fall;
though the crops are swaying, golden
and you're still here
and I, like the leaves,
am still hanging on.
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