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Should a rustled breeze caress her hallowed wing,
And colours, crimson, mimic a Sun's posturing,
This then is a time of change .....
Both in dreams and dreamer's sleep,
A moment captured in mind to keep.

For when Autumnia stands, unseen, alone,
Embracing Nature's cyclic dance,
Her beauty precedes ... t'is beyond reproach.
Still I sit and realise this .....
All that transpires is naught but
..... a faerie's wish!