• A leaf
    How plain
    Yet beautiful
    Begins as little a bean
    Then grows
    Could be any shape
    Or size
    Is green when sprouted
    But turns to a shade
    Of red, orange, or brown
    Wriggling from from a branch
    Feeling the cold wind blow on its face
    Dancing to the ground
    It waltz its way down
    To the calling ground
    And then, it dies
    But there will always be more
    In the future