Deciduous
Eloquent, deciduous lovers.
Trees gone Paleo
and changing their makeup.
Soon to drift to decay.
Failing to make the most of
advantageous, auburn sunlight.
Smolder with the
color of fire,
only to wither.
Only to usher in
a brittle winter.
Darkness comes early.
I will rub my body
with golden rod
to create fake light.
The smell of damp,
of wood, and old books.
Tree things stolen.
The deer will eat our bark
as we weather snow.
Roots were never
deep enough to regrow.
One less ring to count
when we get cut down.
Just one more
strike of an ax.
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