Prose

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The Lives of the Leaves

written by: T.W.N.D

What makes the leaves fall?
Is it the cold and barren sky?
Do they try to hold on, but realize
That they eventually all must die?

I wonder if they worry about
The ever slow seeming fall to the ground
And what it will feel like when they are cold,
All stepped on.

Do you think they know when
Their time has come?
Or do they exist each day
As if it is their last?

And once they fall, where do they go?
Some are picked up, but others just fade;
Who is there to remember?
All of their worth and color they
Brought to the backdrop of life, just gone.

I wonder where their energy escapes to
And if they have a second or third chance.
Wouldn't it be amazing to think the new
Leaves you see are the same as the last?

What if they come back just in a different
Spot, or even on a different tree?
It would be pretty uplifting to just know
Where they'd be.

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