The Vicious Breeze

The vicious breeze steals poor green leaves

In its most selfish of moments.

But when it sees the tree still stands

In fear, it begs for atonement.

It tries to throw the leaves with care

And lets them sail gently upwards

And lets them fall and die with flair

Coloured a rich, golden mustard

But as the cold winter arrives

It forgets all that it’s promised

The poor green leaves fall to the wind

like Anemones of Adonis

But yet, when spring returns again

The tree’s the wind’s dancing partner

For it feels sorry for the wind

Who has neither a friend nor a gardener.


(Photo Credit:


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