The smell of the autumn
The smell of the rain mixed with the smell of eggs
And the sound of bacon singing so joyously
And the table that had four plates with a vine painted onto all of the plates with grape’s hanging from them
The feeling of the embroidered tree on the tablecloth that’s been passed down for a generation
With a window in the kitchen that peers into the empty field with a single maple tree
With leaves as orange as the sun
And a nest full of baby blue jays
And the father blue jay feeding them a worm that was freshly caught
Still wet from the dew
The smell of the rain mixed with the smell of eggs
And the sound of bacon singing so joyously
And the table that had four plates with a vine painted onto all of the plates with grape’s hanging from them
The feeling of the embroidered tree on the tablecloth that’s been passed down for a generation
With a window in the kitchen that peers into the empty field with a single maple tree
With leaves as orange as the sun
And a nest full of baby blue jays
And the father blue jay feeding them a worm that was freshly caught
Still wet from the dew
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