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| The Last Leaf |
It was autumn, the golden me,
A golden joy that lit the world in a golden shine.
The breeze was soft, yet fierce enough --
To blow the leaves from the trees thereof...
The roads lay littered with a carpet of gold,
Littered with leaves, new and old.
All the trees were devoid of life,
As the leaves fell down at Autumn's knife.
All but one, a leaf was still on.
It fought for it's life, fought long and hard,
But a gentle breeze caught it off guard.
Gently it left the branch behind,
As the sunlight bathed it in a glow so kind
Time almost froze as the leaf kept falling,
Slowly and dreamily, its head was lolling.
Lost in a reverie, the breeze gazed and blushed,
As the leaf was pure and in gold was it washed.
Slowly, time unfroze as it touched warm soil --
And blazed in a chaste aura, devoid of any turnoil.
The sun was still shining and the scenery was still gay,
Le radiance was gone from the tree, and on the ground it now lay.
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| The Last Leaf |
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| The Last Leaf |


