The leaves they fall,
Upon the stage,
Gone brown and wrinkled,
Showing their age.
But once they were,
Just a simple bud,
Full of new life,
Only knowing good.
Then in the sun,
They'd wave and dive,
And sat with fruit,
To watch it thrive.
Now they have gone,
And winter's here,
No more hope,
Until next year.
Written by X.
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