Rekindled in Autumn


It's slowly nearing autumn

when the wind blows ginger breeze,

and gilded golden skies provoke

the changing of the leaves.

Morning spirit's waken then

to the candles dimming glow,

as rusted swing sets squeak, and sway

gently to and fro.

It's when the misty graveyards grumble,

and the gourd vines tangle posts.

do lovers seem to find each other

in the form of ancient ghost's.

Surely moons go quickly fading,

as the sun soon claims the sky.

Until that is when darkness falls

where lovers never die.

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