Leaves

No sadder scene have I observed than this.
Once bold, then bright, now bleak, they lay at last,
The leaves of autumn, wet and matted firm
Upon the pavement this November morn.
We murdered each other a hundred and thirteen times,
Yet I cannot recall our final kiss,
Or first embrace, though then it must have been
As bold as all those budding leaves of spring.

– K Poleet

“For the road to the stars was a road that forked in two directions, and neither led to a goal that took any account of human hopes or fears.” – Arthur C. Clarke, Childhood’s End

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