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Brisk Autumn Sunday (Poem)

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The warmth of my bed keeps me from moving an inch,
The sounds of the rain on the roof make it easier to head off to dream land.
Though the thoughts of dreams surround my head,
the thought of the rain keeps me awake instead.
The smell of the rain lingers throughout this room,
just as it drops onto the streets outside my window.

This Sunday morning has gotten even better,
with the rain pouring down and keeping me tucked in my sweater.
For this season I know,
the rain will not end.
At least until November,
when the snow finally begins.

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