and I've lost all my will
to go out and explore past my windowsill,
it must be Autumn.
When apples turn red
and trees start to shed
and their leaves all end up in my flower beds,
it must be Autumn.
And though it is my favourite season,
I fear it leads itself to guilty treason
as it's colours and scents and beauty end in snowy cold without reason,
it must be Autumn.
But for now I'll settle in,
start the fight to not over eat and never win,
and enjoy the beginning of holiday season with my next-of-kin.
It must be Autumn.
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