¹     
Here come those kids again, I thought.
They do it every year.
They have something they call a rake.
It fills me with such fear!
 
²     
"Why can't I just stay on the tree?"
Up here it is great fun.
I'm soft and green out on a limb
And flutter in the sun.
 
³     
But then it happens, autumn comes,
The wind gets rather cold.
I start to dry, turn red and brown
And sometimes yellow or gold.

Paragraphs 4 to 8:
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