Dry, crisp, brittle leaves were strewn Across the forest floor almost like fallen Soldiers in the battlefield laying in ruin.
But to children this forest was a playground Where children could access their imagination And build piles of leaves like fortresses.
These fortresses would later be blown Away by giant gusting winter storms. Leaves were no match for the winds, but still They fought on willing themselves not to tear, For if they did it would be like hundreds Of little hearts shattering from sorrow.
Come spring, the little brittle leaves have Been blown away and in their place grow Beautiful lavender flowers like a big purple Blanket on which the children now lay on Remembering their fallen friends.
*In memory of those brave little leaves
leaves.
Author: Bryce K
0
Date: 07/04/2020
№ 1207729
Leafs, leaves..
Careless children Breaking glass like charm Snowing down on us Little lives led astray Little love given each day People fly, fail and still Continue to flutter I cry, flail and dismantle A sordid mess Of unwanted memories
Stepping onto leaves thinking of raking them later Ocean of dry leaves posing the question to her Where would you start, pretty miss of yonder How would you finish it all before dinner
Oh I'd start way back in the south corner Where the old cabin shed stores the rake Thinks she of her afternoon's tedious chore Wishing that she could set the piles on fire
Alas, it's dreaded to have outdoor fire For fear it would burn down more than you desire Back where I'm from that would be campfire Here I'd better bag'em for easy transfer
Stepping onto leaves thinking of raking them later Ocean of dry leaves posing the question to her Where would you start, pretty miss of yonder How would you finish it all before dinner
I'll be fall and you'll be the change. A cold wind for you to rearrange. Raked in pile, colored by time you are. Flying in the wind from your origin root by fare.
Swirling wind conducts Erratic dance of joy Surrendered in companionship In ecstasy's employ Desire draws us ever close Exploring spacious flight Merging yet At any moment Single Darkened Light
The Leaves Of The Trees And The Grass Of The Plains
And again I found myself laying underneath the sun and above the shattered oak leaves. Dressing the ground on a cold Autumn day, these tiny vessels carpet the woodland floor. I find that we can learn much from the leaves of the trees and the grass of the plain, I find that if one looks close enough, we really are no different than even these leaves. Daily we're swept off of our branches and blown into countless differing directions, parting Parting from one another when our time is decided, knowing not to where we fly. And just like these leaves, we are truly simple beings, varying in color and size, But all coming from the same root. You see I've found, by only watching the leaves of the trees and the grass of the plains, That once we come to know our roots, the directions we take are no more valuable than the petty pride we often carry. So here's the deal you see, I really don't have much to say, so listen close. No one person is better than another, no one person is more important than some other And this is so, because our roots are the same. As the leaves of the trees and the grass of the plains of this earth in which we inhabit, We must come to realize that our leaves are not what matters, but the fruit we produce. We must come to realize yes, that without healthy fruits of love and peace and kindness Our tree is but merely a sore sight to those looking upon our arboretum from outside
