With crisp winds and silver rainy clouds I walk around in the garden looking at how my rose bushes are now preparing for winter. A tear slips out and rolls down my cheek. For five months I will have to beare not looking at these beauties. Then I feel a raindrop in my hair. Take a deep long breath and smile. The fresh air that winter brings tickles my nose and I brush the stem. See you in the spring I say.
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