Freeformed
It wasn’t much to look upon
A page of simple words
Blown along to twist anon
A rage of thoughts un heard
Caught at last on leafless twigs
To tear and flex with ease
A shout of torn and tortured truths
Flapping in the breeze
Bitter litter caught by
Naked Winter trees
To cause
A token memory of
Leaves
Composed discarded feelings
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2006
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