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￭ The only thing
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2007-02-04 | |
Today Iâ€™m free. I invite my nephew for a walk. I take him to see how the town looks in this October end.
On a wooden bench,
brought by the wind,
a yellow leaf.
My nephew, Lucian, asks me from what tree did the leaf fall. I show him the lime-tree nearby. Afterwards we go to see other lime leaves. We pick up the most beautiful leaves, big and small, symmetrical or â€ścrookedâ€ť as Lucian says. In the park, among yellow leaves, we can see an orange one. â€śGrandma, this is a lime leaf, too?â€ť â€śNo, this is a cherry leaf.â€ť
We go to pick up orange, scarlet and brown leaves.
on the wind blow,
a maple leaf.
My nephew likes maple-leaves best. There are all kinds of shades starting from light yellow to red-brown.
rarely split the air
After we pick enough leaves, we go home. In front of the gate, a big vine leaf. We take it. We from a funny face on one side of the vine leaf. We use two chestnuts for the eyes. As nose â€“ a cherry leaf. The mouth three little pear-leaves.
â€śGrandma, my mother will like what we did, wonâ€™t she?â€ť, he asks me. He doesnâ€™t wait for the answer. He runs to call his friends to see his work.
Autumn is sighing,
copper tears fall
from all trees.
I remain near the gate. My childhood remembrances retrain me. I used to pick and admire leaves. But only autumn.
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