Leaves upon the asphalt
green, gold and brown,
fallen from the treetops
scattered on the ground,

Yet I see some in a line
arrayed in a row
arranged by a human,
or part of nature’s show?

Settled in the waters
left after the day’s shower
almost a bouquet,
Mother Nature’s bower.

Reflected in the puddle
the leaves still on the tree,
A reminder of the cycle,
round and round, constantly.

Everything has its time
everything, it’s place
the story of life,
etched upon each face;

Like the colours of a leaf
the bark upon the tree
The lines on our face,
there for all to see.

Poem copyright protected, and the property of Rambling Poetry, and not to be used without permission.


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