The colors change,
because of the later season.
What remains,
awaits the winds seizing.
It floats and falls,
gently to the ground.
Thoughts arise,
although they're not profound.
As I see,
the results of passing time.
Why trouble me,
these thoughts upon my mind?
It's part of life, I know,
and I wouldn't really care,
if I was referring to the leaves,
but I'm talking about my hair.
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