All these branches,
All these leaves,
They're changing colours,
Like women's weaves.

They're changing.
They're rearranging.
They're bearing all,
For the winter.

We put on jackets,
We put on hats,
We wear our gloves and scarves.

But the trees,
They let it all go.

They show us their scars.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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