Three-quarters of a year is gone
For
(snap your fingers), just like that!
September
will, by morrow’s dawn,
Roll
up and store the welcome mat.
October’s
waiting in the wings,
Her
pumpkins all prepared to go,
As
autumn strides, with all it brings,
To
set the foliage aglow.
Since
Nature’s rules we must obey,
We’ll
flip the calendar once more
And
fill those boxes on display
With
all the plans we have in store.
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