Buds fall from the trees like tangible rain,
Gently altering course as the breeze commands it.
They tangle in my hair and litter the ground,
Softening the edges of rough cracked cement.
Some sweet scent wafts through the air,
Coming from delicate pink flowers.
Theyre supported by a twisted old, gnarled old tree,
Strong and steady versus pale fragile beauty.
Impressions of leaves scar the sidewalk,
Left when the cement was fresh and vulnerable.
The leaves have long since dried up and crumbled away,
But their footprints still remain.
















Devious Comments
Comments
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I'm like that random canadian penny that always finds its way into your pile of American currency.
You're always like "How'd that get there?"
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The cake is a lie.
[Base in icon by [link] ]
It's pretty good.
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I'm like that random canadian penny that always finds its way into your pile of American currency.
You're always like "How'd that get there?"
--
The cake is a lie.
[Base in icon by [link] ]
but it's awesome all around
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The problem with poet is how do you know it's deceased?
Nathan's hobbies: Kissing girls, going farther than kissing with girls, overthrowing the evil government
[link]
--
The cake is a lie.
[Base in icon by [link] ]
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