a collection of my poetry

leaves

leaves come in all shapes and sizes.

the night falls sooner day by day, the leaves begin to die.

all leaves change color, it's unavoidable. they will always change. even when they change, they're still all different.

the leaves will fall slowly towards the rotting grass. most, if not all, will fall.

this is most certainly inevitable.

then,

there will soon be only one leaf left.

alone,

abandoned.

all leaves fall.

but what is there to be left behind now?

the final leaf is the final leaf.

it will curl up, crumpling, until it becomes so weak that it falls.

nothing is left.

the tree had no reason to keep the last, dying leaf.

now,

when you reread this,

keep in mind that these 'leaves' were never such.

for the leaves hold a deeper meaning and were only a metaphor, or a motif if you will, for humans.

how inhumane we are most certainly.

we'll all rot one day.

everyone will leave.

now,

when you reread that,

to 'rot' or to 'leave' does not signify nor represent death.