Autumns litter scattered on the ground,
The trees still whisper excited sounds.
Their last leaves, the colour of fire,
The joyous church bells ring out across the shire.
The last of the apples cling on with conviction,
Avoiding the foragers baking addiction.
A perfect picture of an October day;
As the suns diamonds reflect on the lake.
Alas, things are not all that they seem;
The dark storm clouds gather in their reams.
Heading this way without care or warning,
A shower of pessimism suddenly in the morning.
An empty tempest batters the walls
Desperate cracks appear, then it falls.
But, the sun peeps out, and now it's glowing.
The storm has passed, the rivers are flowing.
The birds are manic in the pastel blue sky.
He asks himself again why, why, why?
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