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Timing

When do I know
To let go?

When it’s too cold,
Should I release my hold
And swirl to the dirt
In my red autumn skirt?

When I grow weary
Of the same scenery?
Then, is it my time
My fingers to unbind?

Is there a whisper, like a breeze
To tell me “dear girl, pretty please
everybody’s already gone
It will be freezing by the dawn”

How can I tell
When to bid farewell?

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