Blue Leaves
The rest, at my elbow,
Twirling into my hair,
Or that of Sheila little dancer,
Three or four she is,
Into whose body leaves conversed,
In an animated talk, tis true tis true,
To her of her,
A beauty queen,
And- look! She’s covered.
They have created from the,
Wind’s blowing steam,
A steam of-
Cold cooking a mystery,
That helped their cause,
Of creating something,
With their talents together,
A pretty, blue-leaf queen.
Ah, and I sit here,
With leaves in my hair, wondering . . .
Could it be me next, who becomes one?
An iced up figure of excellent beauty-
(like blue icing a cake-)
As I walk into work one day,
Dancing like the little girl,
Covered in blue leaf mystery,
My blue leaves . . .
How I do love the fall!
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