Leaves Rustle

Evening comes with full moon high
Leaves rustle along branches
They shake for cold wind comes
Wind whisper among leaves
Telling them darkness will last longer
For which their color will drain
Turning them brown, red, orange and yellow
And one by one they drop in heaps to ground
Their life drying up crumbling when footsteps trod

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Patch Of Brown Leaves

Among the tree full of green leaves
A patch of brown leaves I see
Standing out lonely from others.
Why are you not green like the rest?
Did you feel the cold quicker
In early months of the year
While the rest were still growing?
Did you bud to early and now
You turn old ready to fall to ground?
Or is it because the weather
Fluctuated from hot to cold
And so you lost your green pigment?
Silent not answering you’re attach
For you are too high in tree.
My words are muffled among
Your fellow leaves surrounding you.