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Dance of the Maple

The maple sways in passion
To the rhythm of the gale
Even the blades of grass
infuse a dynamic into the tale

Only the leaves of the maple
Revel in their relaxation
The tree drives its own intensity
To kindly send an invitation.

The leaves rustle slightly
In fearful hesitation
They perceive that change
Will prove an abomination

But they stir more upon urging
and immerse themselves freely.
Breaking loose from their chains,
they glide into immortality.



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