The wind is changing. September breathes
A new beginning onto every leaf --
A story not yet read. A golden door
Where never was before
And in your hand a sudden weight. A key
Heavy with years and secrets. Anything
Waits behind the door -- Quick, unsure
Your heart, your hand, extend --
September breathes encounters -- whispers roads
Unknown their ends -- a thread of cold
Unflowered yet -- And not yet told
Tree to tree, that "Once --"
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