Signs of the Fall

The golden apples of the sun are here. The crisp air falls upon the city in a sullen blanket. Kids huddle around puddled leaves. Yellow buses hurdle the collective young brains off to learning centers of deception. Nurtured youth assemble to be our future. Which one among you will be our leaders, our killers, our darlings, our failures, there is always a rotten one in the bunch. Fall is here again.

Tony M.

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