As they bristle
Through the air
Stomp, smash
A crunch, as she treks
Through the forest
As warm as the sun,
As bright as a star,
The colorful leaves
Crash to the ground
Summer is over
Fall has fallen
Winter, is approaching
The fall leaves fall
As they bristle Through the air Stomp, smash A crunch, as she treks Through the forest As warm as the sun, As bright as a star, The colorful leaves Crash to the ground Summer is over Fall has fallen Winter, is approaching
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Dead End
Are you kidding me? Dead End! I am an invisible human scarecrow Jack O'Lantern who died 19 terrible deaths met ghosts and gremlins witches and long dead knights I can and will Do what I want a little Dead End is not gonna stop me It's dead So am I The end has already come! The Dead End has passed for me so I will pass it The Dead End She wears my snow boots. The snow books that are mine. Not her's, mine. Why does she wear them? How does she wear them in 60 degrees? She likes how big they are, the noise they make, the fact people ask "why are you wearing snow boots?". Why are you wearing my snow boots?
The pages, are they yellow? Are they white? Is it textured or smooth? Are the words in Times New Roman ? The smell of the paper in a book has a special quality, it's almost like there is an inherent magical book quality. The pages always smell good. What color is the cover?
A hush, a pit-a-pat, a release of tension the essence of life falling in fast, fat drops--beautiful, then breaking, then gone. Crystals sliding down the windows, saying "shhhh..."
Red Yellow Orange
The colors of the Fall So very cool The beautiful trees swaying in the wind
The smell of fall filled up my senses The wind slowly pushes the smell of pine cones near me The orange and yellow leaves fall along the path as I walk The Bassist's fingers crawl
across the neck of his double bass, a walking spider of hand movements to keep pacing the drummer's "rap tap-a-tap" on the cymbals crashing brassy sounds and deep strings the depths kept alight by one solo saxophone, coronet, trumpet, the reeds and the horns live in freeing soun You, who injured us,
Why do they still follow you? Can they not hear me? 1, 2, 3
So many numbers that I see 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8 Sequence numbers Steady Stable Never-changing numbers Ever-changing world When the number of problems grows And the number of trees shrinks Math will be constant Even if numbers were created The way we use them will not change |
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