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Click hereBarren trees scrape their fingers
'cross my window panes
The howling wind chills the blood
flowing through my veins
The full moon floats high in the night
as dark clouds drift on by
The frigid silence broken only
by a lone wolf's cry
Fallen leaves dance in the air
a dry and crackling sound
And the mist, it spreads and creeps
across the frozen ground
So I lay here in the darkness
shiv'ring in my bed
As Autumn's wind brings to my ears
the voices of the dead
A view of the autumn as the season of the dead, or at least, the harbinger of death - winter.