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Green leaves blowing in a summer’s breeze. Giant clouds drifting along their way. Autumn is near and Summer won’t stay.

Leaves turning red and brown, drifting down among the dying grass. Where picnics once held is where the things of Summer find a grave.

Winter is always nearby. Cold air ready to share. Leaves upon the ground beneath the trees with bare branches in the cold air.

Season by season things change again and again but what once was will be again.

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