Long ago, the children in the street
Gazing past the smoke hae seen
Us, standing in November.
Before the year he chaotic leaves
Drift from the trees and into
The hand that remember.
Ride past the yards in the burning streets
While the family bends and picks
Under the magic autumn sky.
Before the dog barks and day is gone,
Familiar voices will call
From the doorway of home.
The chld is taught of the ancient root
To lead the people to the orchard
Where apology hangs from the trees.
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