The year is now waining,its life nearly spent.
Each day grows colder and short.
Cider and fried cakes are now roadside treats.
And the harvests are nearly complete.
Smoke stacks are puffing as wood stoves awake.
Ice forms on puddles at dawn.
The trees do a dance in bright brilliant hues.
And your breath, it just hangs in the air.
I'm wishing for leaving to go there again.
Though i wont say it's win or it's lose.
I'm just not where i'd like to be this time of year.
I've got the stuck in North Florida blues
Originally Posted On Site: 2009-07-11 23:50:11
Last Login: 11.04.11
Visits as of 12-12-07: 338
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