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■ The oak
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. . .
look for me in the space between the shadows of autumn leaves I am the sweet scent of decay the perfume of summer's passing where my foot falls death follows the cycle returns again this is the time of endings the season of deepest sorrow in my eyes you see the shadow pass the angel reaps as you've sown there is no love lost here no fallen grace to reclaim a priveledged few perceive me the ghostly visitor of the night where shadows fall I wait darkness cloaks me like a sigh as a lost lover I approach you arms extend for a last embrace scent of dying summer takes you surrender to your ultimate fate . . .
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