Hanging On

Everyone is gone, fallen to the depths. But I’m hanging on.

The world grew cold. The others changed. I must have changed, too. But I don’t want to let go.

We once numbered in the thousands. But I am the last of us. I don’t want to go.

The cold air bites. The wind pushes and spins me. I’m trying to hang on.

I lose my grip, no longer attached to safety. I flutter in the breeze. Twisting, falling.

I land softly, reunited with the others. Once green, we are now brown and yellow and orange. But we are together again.

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