Being A Leaf


There’s no constraints to a falling leaf,

Save for when it reaches the ground,

And even then,

The whistling wind drifts it along any landscape,

Catch a moving sewer stream to its next locale.

Wherever that leaf may go,

No matter what it does,

It’s still the same falling leaf that dreamt of freedom to roam the skies and earth.

(Photo taken by me.)

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