Their passion got them stricken 
living with the butcher like a chicken .
On the green bed they seems dead, 
Dried but have whole life within



Their symetrical structure  
looks like ruptured cells,
scented with deja vu's smell 
  
 
Let go of themselves marching
those tiny little dark things 



How can they be dead,  
while with wild west wind they are dancing

Is this flight destined to afterlife . 
I asked , 
to the flying leaves.....


(*butcher -reffers to the wind )