The Last Leaf
The leaves begin to change their hue and fall,
The tree's look like skeletons all spindly and tall.
We run through the piled leaves, kicking them up like a cloud,
The chidren all excited yelling out so loud.
The ancient gnarly oak looks as if it only has one leaf left,
All solitary and lonely looking all bereft.
Then the softest gust of breeze finally brings it fluttering down,
The tree is finally naked without it's green leafy gown.
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