Falling Leaves - A Poem
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Like crashing helicopters,
They came in hundreds, spinning
Until they knocked the rich earth beneath.
For they fell on the broad, brown carpet
Already made by their heroic brethren
Who foreran them.
Their radiant green clothes will turn yellow,
And then burnt brown,
Until they themselves become brown carpets
For their brethren whom they had forerun.
Such is the fate of falling leaves.
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