The New Leaves on the Swaying Branch are Green

Blowing on the wind on a stormy night
The golden leaves, each, a promise,
A womb burning with honey,
Each, a chaotic star filling the vale of night
With tunes rising all the way to the sky,
Each, an unheard whisper uttered by a solitary heart
Tying string to string in the unseen palm of love.
Burning to silence, the golden leaves fall
Like fresh dew onto the green lips of the earth,
Dawn…

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