Fallen City - Poem by Chantelle Clark
The dawn of fall has arrived within a golden essence.
The city has crumbled beneath the twilight sky.
The water reflects the odd beauty perserving its lingering prescence.
Across the lake a lone pine stands on a hill, swaying in the whispering voices of the gripping chill. Wind.
The colours of life are vibrant in the frigid air but not for long as the hands of coldness sweep through the evening atmosphere.
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