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Aug 2019
Late fall when leaves have left their summer homes just to lay helpless on the cold wet earth.

Some lay together in bunches in corners, while others have a space all of their own.

Some drift along a rippled water's surface being pushed far away by autumn's northeasterly winds.

Their magnificent colors are all but ignored now.

The swooshing- rattling-crackling sounds as a gentle breeze blew through their once summer home is now a distant memory.

A memory not for the leaf you understand, but for the viewer that has valued the leaf's existence.

Appreciated its every movement and sound,
sang its praise for shade against the harsh summer sun.

Even its very last movement, falling to the earth helplessly, gracefully,
only now to be walked upon by those that never noticed them in the first place.

These leaves, they share no animosity nor disappointment in those that never look upon them.

They only feel sorry for them.

But, next season after the cold winter's night has passed,
the leaves will be back once again in their full vibrant glory, living on their summer homes,
providing camouflage for a bird's nest buried deep inside,
providing shade and shelter even to those that choose to ignore all of which they are.

Only to "Fall" and "leave" us once more,
just to do it all over again and to hopefully acquire a new fan or two.
Written by
The Concrete Poet  M
(M)   
137
   Bogdan Dragos
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