Meta Morphosis (RIP figure skating / hail and rain)
A Surreal October
Pine trees shed painful tears in autumn.
Its almost like they know winter is coming.
All those sharp long tears blow in the wind.
The wooden needles all meet on the glittering grass.
There's a look of long splinters waiting to prick.
Yet all are just harmless and sticky.
Pine cones flutter about in the brisk breeze.
Autumn blows those ornaments right off the trees.
Adorning the grass with crumbling leaves and rustic splendor.
The blue birds that fly above dying grass are
unaware of winter coming.
All they remember are their bobbin homes.
Their homes are lacking colorful thread
to wrap around them.
The pine tree stands as tall as a soldier
to protect them.
Autumn has made the pine tree mourn.
It has turned its glorious green into rusty brown.
The sky is always undecided because
it haunts through out the seasons with blue,
gray, black, golden light, and white.
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