Leaf, in the wind it blows,
Flying between its friends it goes,
On trunk of oak, like avalanches,
Brethren letting go of their haven branches.

Leaf, to the cold it will kneel,
The soft touch, yet bitter feel,
Leaning into the embrace of powder snow,
Travelling until death it will go.

Leaf, wading through colored flowers out of norm,
Encountering beauty in oh every form,
Fluttering in rain, no matter the cost,
Though it appears leaf is yet so lost.

Leaf, sun shines and burns,
Sees friends, young and learns,
Old and wrinkled, it has come to an end,
His time has come, yet the cycle goes on over again.