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An Autumn Leaf

Only a few of us are left now, our color changed to brown, red and yellow as we cling to the branches. Butterflies no longer hover over us. Even a gentle zephyr causes consternation. Several of my neighbors take their death plunge to the ground, as I watch. I have embraced the inevitable. 

We are closely observed by the lone old man on the balcony in his clock- tower, across the meadow. Sometimes he is seen, His dull eyes moist, holding a photograph of the woman who used to share his life, till recently. My grasp on the branch is faltering now. Another breeze is all it takes. And I slowly spiral down. I see the old man lift his frail hand and slowly wave…

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