Her Future Glory

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It was a small flame, on a single tree leaning, as if she had been hiding

high in the mountains, on a cool crisp morning,

revealing only a part

of her future glory.

I smiled remembering her fire,

of yellow, gold, and red, so I breathed in

the leaves knowing

we would all be embraced soon,

by the brilliant fire

of autumn.

   

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

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