Fall Leaves

Trees by Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
 A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

And all I have to say is AMEN!


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