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Winds of Change

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:


Icy fingers on my spine,

Premonition of thoughts sublime.

Unknown fear entering on-line,

Tomorrow’s daydream, yesterday’s rhyme.


“Explain this feeling of mine,”

Command I of my brain,

“That has come stealing, creeping,

Cold and frozen up my spine.”


Searching all the hidden places,

Recalling memories, hazy faces,

Sifting, sorting, ever recalling,

Striving for an answer so evasive.


Then my brain, always kind,

Answered the question on my mind.

“This eerie feeling, troublesome, strange,

Is but the hard, cold winds of change.”

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