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The Leaves on Those Trees Spoke About Me!
The leaves on those trees spoke about me,
They leaned their flat, green shapes against each other,
Then came together to talk,
As the breeze pushed them up and down.
I wondered how they even knew,
That I was of modern mankind true,
That I could be their friend or foe,
That once I decided to go.
And follow out that mission of modern man's progress.
But their green body swayed with ease,
They breathed their breathable breeze,
And continued their green soft speak,
They weren't sure their future looked,
Sunny or bleak in this modern world.
And as they observed me standing there,
Down below the trunk,
Staring at my determined stare,
I wanted to fell all trees,
To fell them just to show I could.
So the leaves presiding over their g reenland,
Commenced their dance and speech.
They couldn't decide whether I was an environmentalist,
Or a man with no green conscience with no red heart.
poem
by
Vera Sidhwa
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