I see the minute signs of fall nearing.
The plants begin their death with touches of brown.
It’s not the cold weather I am fearing
It’s the emptiness I see in my tiny town.
The plants begin their death with touches of brown.
Fallen leaves blow away when the cold front passes through.
It’s the emptiness I see in my tiny town
And the homesick feeling I get that I will rue.
Fallen leaves blow away when the cold front passes through.
Migrating geese fly overhead with only one goal.
And the homesick feeling I get that I will rue
Revives the restless stirrings I have in my soul.
Migrating geese fly overhead with only one goal.
There will be triumph as the end is in sight
And the homesick feeling I get that I will rue
Will diminish with the warm morning light.
There will be triumph as the journey's end is in sight.
It's not the cold weather I am fearing
As much as the homesick feeling I get that I will rue.
I love to see the minute signs of fall nearing.
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