Sycamore leaf
Far flung from home
Alone now,
Without your kin,
Among strangers.
Free at last, you roam.
Caught, not by binding stem
To the home tree;
Caught in a new place
Low in the lowly grasses.
Sights are foreign.
Life is crowded still.
You fluttered before;
Fought furiously
Fought free;
But you didn't know
How to fly.
Come rest against
The wall, the house,
The garden gate
'Till you find family again.
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