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Reflecting on the shore of autumn nights,
reworking every chapter with a branch
extension of nostalgic winter
plans.
Lovers are a sweet November sight.
The memories
aloof, as April kites
are farther than the future Father Time,
upon an introspective less travelled,
reflecting on the shore of
autumn nights
And never by the dawn of lantern lights
or cherry blossom showers shimmering,
would one replace the beauty
of amore.
Lovers are a sweet November sight.
Reflecting
on the shore of autumn nights
never felt as right without a whisper,
lovers are a sweet November sight.