A single golden maple leaf
is dancing on the breeze
succumbing to the cold just like its kin
and though its fleeting life was brief
it twirls about with ease
inciting goosebumps all along my skin
I long to join its jaunty jig
but lately I'm inclined
to feel the coming fall and simply mope
if only I could snip a sprig
of hope perhaps I'd find
a carefree way that I could likewise cope.
Are You Reading Me?
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