Falling Leaves - A Poem

Tumbling and tumbling wildly in the air
Like crashing helicopters,
They came in hundreds, spinning
Until they knocked the rich earth beneath.

They break not,
For they fell on the broad, brown sofa
Already made by their heroic brethren
Who foreran them.

In a few weeks,
Their radiant green clothes will turn yellow,
And then burnt brown,
Until they themselves become brown cushions
For their brethren whom they had forerun.
Such is the fate of falling leaves.

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