Withered Leaves Poem by DePen Chang

Do the weather leaves know
Who trod?
Who collected?
Wrote verse on every piece of withered leaf

Put into the lottery box
Some one drew
“Evening hue is like the sky light of twilight”
Some one drew
“Even if there are hundred professors in the country, it won’t fall the rain of Paul Verlaine”
Some one drew
“The dress either reveals the body or covers the body”
Some one drew
“The ticket of entrance can’t rememer the plot”
Some one drew
“Rebellion if the mother of avant-garde, pretense is the twins of obedience”
Some one drew
“The green grass accompanied the remembrance of faded leaves”
Some one drew
“The evening racket bobbled the flying bird”
Some one drew
“Cut the soul of the abandoned branches”
Some one drew
“The kid plays the ball unintentionally pushes the star”
All the people drew
No connection among the verses
But reflecting the minds of various poets
Like the evergreen of the withered leaves hung on the tree

Random arrangement of the verses
What would constitute the world
Who collected?
Who trod?
Do the withered leaves know?