That words be
The leaves of man
Is a thought we struggle
To understand beyond
What words themselves
Permit us to know
That they display
More than a single side
And flutter in a breeze
Ever so gentle and slow
And always strive
To absorb more light
And whether on vellum
Or parchment inscribed
Or leather bound
Or bagged in plastic
Stacked at the curbside
How they ultimately
Find best use when
As good mulch they
Help other words
In good turn to grow
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