Give me autumn,
she cried,
give me autumn or I will die.
Who did she think she was,
anyway, Patrick Henry?
It's true the fall casts a special air,
makes sunsets more poignant,
underlines our mortality,
livens up our life
as the cycle of celebrations begin.
In February we will fall again,
laughing,
tumbling to our seats trying to catch our breath,
as the swirl of holidays finally passes us by.
What good times! we will exclaim.
Never will we have known
company friendlier,
champagne better,
memories sweeter,
mistletoe and egg nog more intoxicating.
Then we wil sigh and pluck our clothes
and ponder how long
til next fall.
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