OUR FALLEN LEAVES Far into the undergrowth of our memories, the vegetation of our pasts, beneath the event trees of our lives, lie, like fallen leaves, residual memories of our happenings. Most are curled up and dry, husks of what they once were. Some have been blown so far and wide they may be impossible to recall. Some are of such mystery that they may not even be truly ours. Most are spasms of random imagination once infused with life. Some are residues of our current thoughts regarding the day’s happenings. We may have among them tales and commentaries, efforts of ours that imbued the floating shards in our mind with the living juice of life. Sometimes they came alive, have breath, and show the true colors they had, may have had, could have had, at the instants of...
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