Her name is autumn.
She is beautiful.
She giggles quietly along with the gentle wind
as her loose golden hair freely flies through the air.
Her dress is long and elegant, made of fresh fall leaves.
It sways with her dance, each step she takes is graceful.
She leaps and bounds throughout the forest,
her hair is tangled with sticks and leaves.
Each of her fingers brushes against a leaf
and turns them yellow, orange, brown, and crimson red.
What a wonderful sight it is to view.
Suddenly she is frightened, her joyful smile turns into a frown.
Her dark skin begins to fade and turn pale,
her lips are not a lush pink anymore.
She frantically runs from tree to tree,
her dress dragging along on the ground.
Soon she dissapears as her golden leaves
burn away to leave the trees bare,
the air turning cold as ice.
As the crystal like patterns fall from the sky,
the forest knows- the winter king has returned...

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