Never think that dead leaves cannot speak.
Words can be uttered without mouth or beak.
Come in heard to hear and they'll remain mum.
To hear them in solitude you need to come.
...
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They will whisper to us about the transitoriness of life! They will say... once I have been so fresh and green... now dry and dead, trampled over by moving feet! !
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They will whisper to us about the transitoriness of life! They will say... once I have been so fresh and green... now dry and dead, trampled over by moving feet! !