Winter Is Coming

They call it falling.
Falling in love.
The way rain falls from the sky,
Showering the world on a
Maturing spring day
Or the way
Sweat falls from the pores of
The people bustling down
A New York City street during a
Smoldering summer afternoon.
Come fall,
The leaves do just that,
They fall from their
Designated branches
Once they have begun to die –
For winter is coming.
On a cold winter night,
Leaves turn to snow,
Instead from branches,
From the sky above
And the world
For a short time
Becomes covered in a white glaze.

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