it's just the blushing maple leaves
that fall in this heated August breeze
that curl the hairs on his neck
that beckon back to the chilled moonlight
full crystal flutes he sipped from
in waiting to hear from the void of night
a distant, quiet voice called his name
luring him from civil slated order
into the wild ravages of the unknown
and he was pleased to succumb to the call
and fall just as these blushing red leaves
brush his cheek in this heated August breeze
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