a poem by Garnet
When earthly work is duly done
Oh, then, wouldn’t it be fun
To look your best before you die
A blaze of red against the sky,
A touch of orange, perhaps, or gold
Your beauty stunning to behold.
This brief display, too soon it ends
You’re caught up by the autumn winds...
Now flutter to the ground below-
In time you’ll help the forest grow.
Give up your nature, set it free
To nourish yet another tree.
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