foggy

a humid haze after a violent stormthe spotted, dying leaf fallen from a maple treethe bitter aftertaste of a sweet treat,the remnants of what was once. one minute, it's so close, you can almost smoke it and the next it's faded, a ghost, you've lost itand you're rendered with deepest struggles toremember 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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