deepundergroundpoetry.com
Dead Leaves
Is there anything more lonely
than dead leaves
blown by a cold January wind
through a grove of barren trees,
piling up at the base
of mossy, faded tombstones
in an old unkempt cemetery –
forgotten in the mists of time
and lost history?
than dead leaves
blown by a cold January wind
through a grove of barren trees,
piling up at the base
of mossy, faded tombstones
in an old unkempt cemetery –
forgotten in the mists of time
and lost history?
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