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Wednesday, October 21, 2015

The Hope of a Leaf

Picking up the withered leaf
I could not help but feel
The leaf was a bud one day
Lived its life and mellowed away

Then came a time, a gust of wind
Broke the leaf from the bow
And down it came from its high seat
To become a part of mud and peat

But then a kindred soul came by
Feeling lonely and alive
Picked up the leaf mellowed away
And thought what it might have to say

The yellow leaf then spoke to him
About its life, great and grim
From the first frost to the last wind
A life of joy, laughter, hope and whim

One never knows when decay creeps in
Like a creeper climbing a trellis ring
Before you know it, the sun is waning
You now hope for a full moon, stars shining

It was hope that made the bud grow up
It was hope that kept the leaf hang on
It was hope that the wind will blow
it away, a place where it might mellow, slow.

When a leaf can have hope from birth to death
We creatures of a sentient mind
Lose hope at the first trough of life
When the crest ahead is shining bright

The leaf now lives in a park bin
Still hoping for a better life
Maybe, a kindred soul might pick it up
And make it a leaf, in his book of life.