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Days are losing their strength, 

As the lively summer leaves shrivel

And the skies release watery pellets with ardour, 

Cleansing streets and filling homes. 

The sun may still boldly shine, 

But the wintry winds remind us

That Autumn’s upon us, change is among us, 

Making clear that Time doesn’t care for feeling: 


It may foster sombre solitude, 

Yet Autumn’s temperance, following Summer’s 

Indulgence, allows for reflection to take hold. 

And work gets a renewed vigour, 

Though our bodies concede signs of getting older – 

Seasons turn quicker, fatigue lasts longer, 

Time’s march towards death proves unrelenting. 


Very soon I’ll have another year tallied. 

For my birthday to fall on such a season

Of transition is perhaps apt: 

Despite some trappings of progress, 

Why do I feel held back, not quite on track, 

As Time feels to be gaining ground on me? 


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