Sunday, August 9, 2009

Leaves of Time

The young lady pointed to the aged and decaying leaf
And remarked on its beauty.
Thoughtfully touched by its wrinkled old texture,
And marbled bright colors.

The small child looked at the old leaf,
And saw in its face an adventure of sorts.
Weathered by the sun and carried by the wind.
And whose story was enchanting, full of grace and charm.

The old man took hold of his bride’s hand,
Withered and aged, spotted and brown.
And glimpsed in her eyes a mischief still young,
A wealth of old knowledge
And a beauty comparable to none.


-Terri Bonney

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