a leaf fluttered to the ground
and suddenly everything was ok
I look around, my breaths the only sound
as a breeze pulls the leaf down, down, down
tears dry on my cheek but I don't mind
the tree at my back is wide with wisdom
but still I look up and find
that it too has fallen victim
to the changing of seasons
the leaf is motionless at my feet
endings are never all sweetness and sunshine
they can hurt and hurt more with each heartbeat
but the story written at day's end is mine
much like the leaf, I too will fall
but unlike the leaf, I will not die
I will get up again even if I must crawl
I will rise on the wind, soaring up high
the story is mine, I choose what's within
I say where it ends and where it begins
this isn't the end, no way, no how
the season of growth begins again now
as I watch this leaf flutter to the ground.
YOU ARE READING
The Writing Rock
Ficción GeneralAs a member of a writing club, I end up with several short pieces and nothing to do with them so this book is dedicated to that. I won't be publishing everything I write, but if it isn't terrible, it'll probably end up here.
