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THE FALL

The rustle of the leaves

The swift breeze

Life carried afar.

Where from where to,

Clueless I move.

With each leaf gone

The tree so bare

With each passing day

A wait to scare.

Hope.

To be green again.

To breathe again.

To live again.

A look down the road.

Fallen leaves around.

No rustle though.

Death. Silence unbound.

Deafening intrigue.

Yet no sound.

No leaf shall appear.

No green cheer.

No trace in the dark

No shadows to point light.

Loss of hope.

In despair, I grope.

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