In the autumn, close to winter

Verdant leaves turned to crumbling parchment

Leaving bare grey limbs stretched against pewter skies

I no longer turn thoughts to the past

Reliving cold triumphs and bitter defeats

Happiness and sorrow blending together forlornly 

But rather reflect, as I watch the first fall of snow

That after a lifetime of searching for answers

It is only now, I begin to comprehend

The questions I should ask

By Mike Turner

From: United States

Website: http://www.MikeTurnerSongwriter.com

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