are slow in rising. the cold
floor
against my feet.
my breath a foggy
bloom.
i close the open window,
touching the frosted
glass.
i examine the shadows
in the room.
autumn has arrived too early
this time
of year, too soon.
where did summer go?
how quickly seasons depart,
so much like love,
the turn of heart, from joy,
to gloom.
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