A vision
A tree hangs against the sky
Branches stretch to oblivion
Dead, dead
Leaves red-gold float harmlessly
Across the air
The ground is filled with them
There are no green, no earth
It is covered
By these dry, dead leaves
As if suspended,
As if Time stood still,
As if the world waited
With bated breath,
The leaves flutter harmlessly,
Slowly,
To the ground
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