The Last Leaf

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Way up,

On a high branch,

Hangs the last leaf,

Golden,

Fragile,

Clinging onto a dried branch,

Spring’s last hope,

As autumn is strewn on the ground,

A prediction to an end,

Of flowery ornaments ,

Of blossoms,

Of beauty,

Swaying on a melancholy cold tune,

Wind sealing its fate,

Falling upon dead grass,

To be blown away,

Abandoning its beloved tree,

Withdrawing from all rights to nature,

To wither away,

To vanish.

Rise

Orb

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