Row boats and willow trees at The Lake in Central Park. New York City.
When the summer sun has drifted low into the sky after every bit of earth has been soaked in its warm splendor, the trees hang their heads down in mournful remembrance of winter’s impending icy touch.
And the willows play a slow and deliberate adagio to accompany the last of summer’s lovers on the sweetest sun-kissed wings of the wind.
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