This one started as an attempt to portray the ever constant search for love and the battle between "letting it happen" and "making it happen". Ultimately, it did not go that way. I think I like it anyway, even though I'm not completely sure of the message.
The sky fills with reds and golds.
The air, brisk.
The smell of apples lingers.
Trees virtually barren.
A breeze erupts through the air.
Piles of leaves shake and resettle.
Branches flail, casting off the leaves that had refused to go.
They dance on the aftershock of the breeze,
Wondering through the air,
Playing with the breeze,
Teasing the ground with their touch,
Slowly melting in the pile.
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