those who cry when something
unexpected happens
i've always liked better than those who get angry, because
they remind me
of the leaves that fall gently
and sway to the ground,
rather than leaves that fall
into a puddle or pond to drown.
it's like
when you're taught the way you react to things reflects who you are,
those angry leaves
who try to swim to the surface
after being drenched in madness
end up sinking.
but those gentle leaves,
who allow the breeze to move them,
glide safely.
quietly.
a quiet life is made
when one listens
more than they speak.
