Wild Hearts

Out of boredom
Come wild thoughts.

I look at the maples
Turning colour:
Red, yellow, pale brown,
Falling to ground only too soon.

Out of boredom,
Come wild thoughts

I hear those steps,
Crushing the leaves:

Step, crush, trample
The colourful beauty to mud.

Only too soon.

Out of boredom
Come wild hearts.

Red-hot, burning,
Opening up to the void world.

Then, falling to ground,
Only too soon.

by Lauma Lapa

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