Out of Love


Autumn leaves fall so slowly

out of love

with the trees, to winter ground-

where they lie hugging old scarred soil

out of love

and shrivel and dryly die,

when they are finally all

out of love.

 

But the trees they leave

are yet young, budding greenly

out of love. Again

grow greener with each sun

which lightens and renews;

always doing what it must

just out of love.

Nature being what it is

borne out of Love.

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2 thoughts on “Out of Love

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