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Awe

A leaf, perhaps the last,
breaks from a maple tree,
spins in the chilly blast
of November, floating free

before it hits a wall,
attempts to run and leap,
only to quickly fall
onto a mounting heap
of others, stop, and fade.
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Sunday, February 21, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: death,leaves
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COMMENTS
Margaret O Driscoll 21 February 2016
Wonderful, the falling of a leaf becomes a masterpiece!
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