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The Autumn Boy
There he lays, here I stand.
Silently nearing,
I take his hand as if it’s a fragile flower.
Fading, my son is, fading
Like the Autumn fades into the deathly Winter.
His breaths are narrowing.
I’m left defenseless,
As Death claims my son.
My son, mine alone.
And like the Autumn,
He fades away.
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