A small golden leaf, flecked lightly with green,
I look up at your tree, you drop down to me.
I look up at your tree, you drop down to me.
O small golden leaf, flecked lightly with green,
Pray, tell, why are you smaller than those still in the tree?
Your body I rend, breaking your stem,
I pull on each end and break you in twain --
Was your life to wane that others might gain?
I pull on each end and break you in twain --
Was your life to wane that others might gain?
O small golden leaf, flecked lightly with green,
I look back up at your tree and in doing so see
That leaves such as you are a minority.
I look back up at your tree and in doing so see
That leaves such as you are a minority.
O small golden leaf, abandoned by your tree,
Was your death merely a frivolous cruelty?
Was your death merely a frivolous cruelty?
O small golden leaf, for you I greive.
Your sad story I hope will never be written of me.
But pray, tell me, friend leaf, are you and your tree
Anything like me and the rest of humanity?
Your sad story I hope will never be written of me.
But pray, tell me, friend leaf, are you and your tree
Anything like me and the rest of humanity?
-- first poem written, copyright © 2005
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