A poem by Pablo Neruda

I remember you as you were that final autumn. You were a gray beret and the whole being at peace. In your eyes the fires of the evening dusk were battling, and the leaves were falling in the waters of your soul. As attached to my arms as a morning glory, Your sad, slow voice…

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Belonging – Nehal

The wind is blowing no more The fallen leaves are resting After landing now They’re making a crunchy sound as I walk on them The naked tree is coming to terms With its bare-all look. No longer trying to hide from the nearby bench exchanging glances with the flowing creek The trail is blazing bright…

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