In my dream
I am a red maple leaf
Abandoned softly by the tree,
Whose front lawn home
Is littered with thousands
A leaf still damp with rain
From the storm since passed,
Blowing silently over the sleeping paw
Of the old sheepdog soaking up the sun
At rest on autumn's soft quilt
I slide endlessly over the sidewalk
Down Vannesst Street's center line
Amidst the tires and exhaust of cars
Lost in their own pursuits,
Driving over mirror images
Suddenly stolen by the fresh fall breeze
I glide through the air
To settle on a white patio chair
Where I watch a somber man
Working to dispose of any traces
of myself.
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