Fallen leaves, a roughened rock, a blade of grass-
What hidden stories do you hold within?
What feet have trod this pebble smooth like glass?
From what boulders did this rock begin?
Yellow leaves flutter down upon a lawn
Holding forgotten words of love and hate-
Whispers of people the wind has not withdrawn.
Who were these people, and what were their fate?
Did some child gaze upon this very leaf?
Their energy and stories have ebbed away,
Locked away in a vast and jumbled sheaf
That the sticks and stones will never betray.
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