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Autumn od Nineteen Forty Eight The cool autumn wind blows as the golden oak leaves fall beyond the cracked and broken wall. The hot summer winds are gone. The early morning bell in the little red school house gongs. The covered bridge over flat creek still stands, passerby’s marvel and clap their hands. Children scamper and frolic in the fresh autumn air, awaiting the first day of the county fair. The pumpkin lay golden, ready and rip. The corn stalks are stacked neat and tight. Things seemed to move slower and people took their time. Life made sense and possessed a rhythm and rhyme. The roses were big and red on the bush that grew on the garden gate. Life was simple and just great in the Autumn of Nineteen Forty Eight. |
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