.LEAF.
Borne on the edge of a tranquil bough,
You hung on till the last gale.
Scorched by Apollo.
Dampened by deluge.
The swan song yet to come.
And when the final twitch looms,
You relinquish to the fall.
Swimming through the waft.
You descend in eddy motif.
And graze the glazed globe.
J.N.
14.12.2020.
2020-12-14 03:23:07
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