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Jun 24. 2025
I paint the woods in fire and gold, a fleeting crown before the cold. I whisper through the amber air, and lay soft carpets everywhere. I bid the songbirds fly away, tucking the blooms in earthโs decay.
Jun 24. 2025
I paint the woods in fire and gold, a fleeting crown before the cold. I whisper through the amber air, and lay soft carpets everywhere. I bid the songbirds fly away, tucking the blooms in earthโs decay.