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Autumn vilanelle

the days' light is running out
and an hour lasts a mere ten minutes.
the trees were playing their last colours.

in the sky the stage set's changing
too swiftly for the little drama in each of us:
the days' light is running out.

your grey coat separates you from the air,
a passepartout for a sentence such as this:

the trees were playing their last colours.
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