All that's green will turn to pale
As Fall sends her chilly winds.
Summer will have left no trail,
Of the sunshine it still brings.
The Sun's flowers, looking down:
Their time has come, they've lived the hours,
Brought worship towards autumn's crown,
But all she brings are heavy showers.
Fall--because the leaves fall brown,
Dancing through her fingertips.
She picks them up and throws them round
Then sets them free, while some she keeps.
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