Yesterday I
opened my old
poetry book, when
I found a pressed
autumn leaf.
Its fragrance took
me back in time,
back in that cold rainy day
Then I was so young
and beautiful
when it got caught in
my hair by the
mischievous wind,
bathed in sky's tears.
But now it's dried
And it will never
be as it was before.
Just like me...

Turning
Dark brown
I let go
The sweetest release
Slowly I fall
Twisting my way
Upon the wings of the wind
I soar
Gently
I rest against the ground
Which grows
Colder
Harder
With every second
I lay
Silent
Curled up
Crunchy
Dead
A foot comes
Large and wide and horrifying
It steps
With power and purpose
Directly on top of me
Squishing me
Breaking me into
Tiny fragments
Puzzle pieces
That could possibly connect to form
What I once was
Lucky for me
My stringy veins
Hold me together
I lay sprawled
Flattened
Exhausted
Like a connect a dots completed by a toddler
I don't resemble myself
But I can see my parts
An unlikely display of
Strength
I had long thought disappeared
The wind pushes me around
I tumble
Forward
Back
The air cools
Rain soaks my surface
Snow pummels my body
Soon, I am trapped beneath its flakes
All I see is
White
A blank wall of
Nothing
I can feel my body
Disinigrate
But all of the sudden
A warm sensation comes over me
It is so strange
I see slivers of green from beneath my white blanket
Eventually I see blue
Puffy white clouds
Brilliant flowers
I am soggy
But somehow
Still
One

The whole time
The evergreen stands near

Like a tree,
With many leaves-

I wasn't the only one.

Pushing my mother
in her wheelchair
through the forest
in the park,
I see my sister
picking up a leaf
and handing it
to mom
who asks
what should I do with it
and I suggest
using it
as a bookmark
for her daily words
and so I put the red leaf
in her pocket
and we roll on.

l(a
le
af
fa
ll
s)
one
l
iness

I am as a leaf in the river
flowing down tributaries
dew drops are my sweat and tears
winds billow and brush against me
while waters swirl beneath

whether I was in turbulence
or dancing wild
was my choice

I see it only now

as I traverse the waters
I meet many others
each with their own paths
own pasts
own histories
own stories

was it me who crossed their paths
or them mine?
who amongst leaves, you and I
could judge, or would say,
“that is a life well-lived”
when we are ceaselessly
ushered current upon currents

out

to the great beyond