The Leaf

The Leaf

My death began at the branch. My neighbors were all feeling poorly but I thought I was different. My veins are drying now. I’m not pretty any longer. I don't think I'll get better. It keeps invading. What will I do? 

Now the branch has let go and I have fallen. I thought our attachment would be forever. I thought it would hold me and love me and it would always be spring. Now it's autumn and my friends are leaving. Even the birds are gone.

A girl has touched me, picked me up, taken me home. I'm not rescued but the time I have left will be warm.