The fallen oak leaf lies delicately on the forest floor, a vibrant tapestry of deep burgundy, fiery orange, and golden yellow. Its edges curl slightly, as if frozen mid-dance, and its surface is adorned with a network of veins, each one a testament to its former role as a vital organ in the grand symphony of the oak tree.
As I hold it gently in my palm, I'm struck by the fragility and strength it embodies. Each vein, each hue, each imperfection tells it’s story of resilience and beauty, a testament to the cycle of life and the passage of time.

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