What do we project onto this leaf?
Is she brittle, parched and vulnerable;
Waiting, helpless, for waves of grief
To wash her from this rocky shore
And carry her to the dark depths of despair?
Or can we still admire the delicate tracing
Of lines upon her golden skin;
The way she glows with reflected light;
Her fragile beauty as she awaits
The breezes that will lift her to new horizons?
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