As the days grow short and mornings chill and those last knockout roses cling sadly to summer, it seems the time to share this unsettling little poem by T.S. Eliot. Song When we came home across the hill No…
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As the days grow short and mornings chill and those last knockout roses cling sadly to summer, it seems the time to share this unsettling little poem by T.S. Eliot. Song When we came home across the hill No…