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Monday, July 19, 2010

One of my poems for Creative Writing

Sitting and watching
the colors change
hanging high
yellows and reds in every range

Some at rest
some are whirling
the shapes vary
as the corners keep curling

Holding on
until the fall
dew drops weighing them down
all they want to do is stall

The veins of life
slowly coming to an end
turning more fragile
stems start to bend

Dry and delicate
slowly floating down
crumbling to pieces
as they hit the ground.

By Amy Miller

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