We were thinking of our autumn
Climbing down stairs, after stars
In a usual roof walk after dinner.

We could not finger -point stars
And there was just a mild breeze
And we forgot a previous count.

We had planned to count sheep,
Repeat feet pitted against stars,
Rife with a possibility to forget.

After autumn, spring cannot be
Far behind and may be waiting
In the sky ,once we finish count.

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