Sifting, changing
Whispers and murmurs
Colors darkening
The green trees turn blood red
The leaves are drying
Ready to fall
Ready for dying
They flutter to the ground
Their purpose served
Their place reserved
Only until Spring
When new life grows on limbs again
They blow about
Hovering slightly above the ground
They're nothing now
Already forgotten
Their very beings rotten
As life only allows
The leaves fall this Autumn
Waiting to be forgotten


 
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