In the fall,
We circle through the leaves
And talk about the little ones.
And we smile, but never say too much.
The moment always vanishing.
One by one the neighbors' lights come on.
Our October day is almost gone.
I know the border lines we drew between us
Keep the weapons down,
Keep the wounded safe;
I know our antebellum innocence
Was never meant to see the light of our armistice day.
In the spring,
wounded
would
plans
always
sides
vanishing
hills
fights
faces
almost
armistice
words
climbed
lines
strangers
about
between
leaves
lights
border
again
watching
never
bleed
showing
moment
budding
marching
meant
october
splintering
circle
mirror
could
seasons
secret
sharp
rolling
smile
talked
smiled
night
spring
light
weapons
little
innocence
through
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