10 Words by Amadeu:
morning, sun, mist, cold, fight, breath, stand, open, sward, gentle
No use to fight,
witnessing forewarnings of winter’s blight,
December morning mist on
the sward, grass will be restored,But not for another season, and with dutiful logic and reason
I exhale my last breath of fall, cold freeze taking deep hold,
But in the long run, the sun will eventually be returning, burning,
So I resolve to stand strong, but will not lose my gentle heart,
I am patient, yet temperamental; I am open and unprotected,
But this is my preference and choice, because no man is an island.
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