Story of a leaf
Walking through the alley
Of the memoirs of the falley
Orange was the shade
and nothing appeared man made
The dried leaf on the ground
never made a bit of sound
Each had a telling story
Of its green and shining glory
When they were a part of tree
all of them were free
for poison to inhale
without a single fail
Now that they are dead
We are still unfed
As the autumn will pass and more leaves shall grow
We would still be wanting and never take a bow
to the little leaf that lived
and made the air so pure
We would burn the dead ones
and always make it sure
that the new ones on the branches
will never have the cure!!!
