Fall leaves red as blood
Cling to branches like pin pricks
Biding time until
Heavy, they drop to the ground
Pooling in crimson puddles.
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The cherry blossoms
Hold spring in their clenched, pink fists
The essence of hope
Released in falling petals
Soft and shy as new love's blush.
submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Sunday Mini Challenge, My Thoughts onTanka, Pt. 2
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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen
