They're Still Hanging On
Taking a walk through the woods
I gaze up at the trees,
The wind blows them around
These brownish oak leaves.
They're still hanging on
Give branches a tight grip,
But, other oak leaves weren't so lucky
From the trees, they have been ripped.
Their friends lay all over the ground
Every day, they get trampled on,
These oak leaves are still in the trees
Awaiting a day's new dawn.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Nov.4/2006
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They're Still Hanging On
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