By Josie Whitehead

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And When Autumn Returns

And when Autumn returns . . . .

And the heathered hills change their hue to gold;
Mellowing sunshine ripens growing vines;
And when fields of wheat are harvested and stored -
      Will you still remember me? 

When the swallows head for southern climes;
Squirrels busily store nuts for cold winter days;
And when trees turn fiery russet and drop their leaves -
      Will you still remember me?  

When the churches are decorated with flowers;
Bountiful harvests are displayed with pride
And when hymns of harvest thanksgiving are sang -
      Will you still remember me?


When the stealthy winds blow across my grave;
The chilly October days draw in and fires are lit
And when I no longer share this fire with you –

                 And when Autumn returns . . 
                             Whisper my name . . . 

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