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On a fall day, the wind blows..
Leaves fly by like each one knows...
That soon they will land,
only to be crushed by foot or hand.
A dead chill spreads throughout the air,
brining the feel of spirits that are there.
A biting wind reaches through my spine,
as I feel the tug of the spirit that is mine,
and I run and run to somewhere safe,
some quiet, peaceful serene place.
A world of grey stone,
the place of ghosts that I call home.