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The Leaf (Poem)

Brown leaf,

once smooth and green

turned fiery

red, tinged with yellow.

The weather transformed;

you’re weakened,

your grip loosened.

A firm stem turned

to a withered thread.

Crumbled, now you fall.

Crisp and frail.

Drifting slowly,

now thrown by a rapid gust,

swerved past a rigid branch,

dropped to the ground.

Scraping the concrete,

dry and lifeless.

Cut off

to be replaced next spring

by something more radiant,

more youthful.