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Im dying....
And
So Is my poetry
Depression  is slowly killing my art.....perhaps my last words.
Summer...

the sun's intense touch
has a hard baking effect
upon the landscape

Autumn/Fall...

golden leaf tresses
festooned down the aspen's
majestic grey trunk

Winter...

night's gelid air flow
foretells of a blanket frost
covering morn's ground

Spring...

she'll be dressed in
a lively floral garment
effulgent of hues
I love the little girl
Inside the woman
So I always come bearing
Gifts for each
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