Those leaves, as they whiten in the breeze,
through ever loftier, higher trees,
they sing aloud for all to hear,
that more they are, oh so dear.
One makes a whole, and only choice changes
that which it chooses mustn't treat it as stranger,
that its nature set aside makes it a champion,
before it decides to leave its warm mansion.
It falls to the ground, oh so slow,
as it wanders around, where will it go?
The earth it sees, withering in sadness,
but still better than which caused it madness.
Sweet leaf, go to your bed,
I commend your effort, well said.
Kevin Maroney
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sweet-leaf/
