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Let Me Die in Autumn
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Let me die in Autumn,
In quiet, graceful bliss
With its pigment-draining pageantry
And its brisk but kindly kiss.
Let me fall and crumple
Under blush of brittle leaves,
Scattering to the darkness
On a thunder-brewing breeze.
Or let my fire-ride to Hell
Be with a galloping, boist'rous Death
And his Halloween'd dead to whoop-de-do
In blaze-besotted breath.
If I should only pack one season,
One parting-picture of my memories,
I'd pick October's merrymaking --
So let me die in Autumn, please.
-- Ken Gage ©1999
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