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Last Summer


Grace Chenxin Wang

The trees were shedding their beautiful cloaks,

And the frigid frost arrived as winter awoke.

The leaves as red as a fox’s hide,

A swirling and eddying, relentless tide.

Graceful ballerinas pivoting in mid-air,

And a handful of soldiers perfectly aware.

The waning foliage,

A delicate collage.

Strewn across the bleak, sodden landscape,

Crushed and obliterated like an expired mandate.

The crisp winds blew by in a breeze,

The impending blight quite at ease.

The taste of the rain’s salute,

Prominent as the fog’s pursuit.

The cloudbursts and shadows reunite,

Washing away the last summer night.