Winter

The leaves thaat used to crunch red

Have faded to powdery moth wings-

Decomposing against the edge of the sidewalk.

I whisk them up from their open caskets

With the toe of my shoe as I walk;

To later spread them into the carpet. 

When once I'd trace their veins to frail corners

Now, I step on their wilted bones. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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