Friday, March 18, 2011

DYING TO FALL



Picture courtesy www.urbangardencasual.com


Atop branches
They hang evergreen,
Though some
Pretty far from green,
Life does spring forth
In different shades of colour.


One after the other
They drop like flies,
The passing of time
Prompts change,
When time’s spent,
They hurry into heaps
And lie still.


Be they up in the air
Or on the ground below,
Always a thing of beauty
Except to the untrained eye,
Nature never makes a mess.

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