Passing an old leaf
beside the tired amber stream,
she called out to me
she called me by name.
Daniel, she said, formally,
Where are you going?
I was stupefied
I rarely talk to the leaves
and, well, that's my fault
Downstream, I reckon
lest I decide otherwise...
My mind could be changed.
The leaf said no more...
I think she was satisfied
and I'll try to be
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