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Leaves on the line

The wind blows leaves down from the trees
Confetti in the breeze
It's raining gold and silver now
Down on the stone and steel

A 125 drifts swiftly by
And ploughs straight through the leaves
Enveloping the coaches as
Through countryside it weaves

The train is picturesquely framed
A million golden curls
Float gently round its bodyshell
And in its wake they swirl


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© A.Boodoo, 20-Oct-97