Dried Leaves: A Sweet Childhood Memory. - Poem by Mahfooz Ali
Walking across the lawn to go,
I stepped on an old brown dried-up leaf.
The sound of the crunch of that leaf as I saw what it was
released a sweet childhood memory of fall afternoons.
Memories of being a child and playing outside,
after being released from another day at school.
Going to neighbour’s houses,
asking permission to take their leaves,
must have seemed so funny to them
for they didn't understand the
wonder of those wonderful dried up leaves.
My friends and I would rake up
as many as we could find,
and start the job of seeing
how high to make our leaf tower,
when it was just right we would smile
then the fun began
we jumped in the pile over and over,
until all the leaves turned into a powder.
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