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Dying Leaf

By jamesaguiar - Posted on 15 January 2010

Ever watch a dying leaf on a tree, a bush?
In the slightest breeze
Discolored and dry
It contorts and twists.
Its severing attachment
Becomes more fragile
As healthly leaves secure
On the same branch
Barely move in tandem of green chorus.
If such senescent arbory
Has a soul
As does, I'm told,
Does it wish to fall,
Even in fear, its end near.
Does it dream of being swept away
To the fire,
Its funerary pyre?
Does it say good bye
In past Verdant style,
Lilting to the ground
Where dead brothers abound?
All that matters,
fellow mad hatters,
Is that flesh or leaf
This is our end-that's my belief.

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