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Standing in forest deep and green,
Older than old with stories to tell.
Falling leaves of autumn strewn about,
A haphazard design of nature's wrath,
And its beauty.
Crunching along, going forth, on beaten path,
Eyes afire with sacred gaze.
Cool breeze rustling through the trees,
A clairvoyant call of coming winter.
Season's change and time passes,
Rain and snow come and go.
Deep and green, the old growth remembers;
A deep rooted memory of the past.
Tom Stanley
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