There’s More to Fall Than Turning
My hands go out like tree limbs
they're reaching far and wide
I know not of tomorrow
I know not quite of time
See these leaves?
they're burning
from to and fro
and side to side
roast like marshmellows
break my branches
pitch my twigs and swing
swing
swing
down ropes and vines
No, tomorrow I don't have time
I am not wide
I have four sides
and equal length in vines
that may or may not be used to swing.
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