Yesterday

I picked a leaf from the countless

lying in the grass

beneath its mother tree

 

It lay

like spring blossom

seven pronged, serrated edges

held together by veins

a twisted spine

 

Yet once

sap-driven, it flourished

blood-red as party bunting

 

And once

curled like strands of tobacco

it unfurled from winter’s warmth

to the promise of spring breezes and showers

 

Today

separated

from countless discarded memories

it lies wrinkled between the pages of my notebook

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