Alex picked up a maple leaf from the ground
It was a beautiful crisp one, strong and free
Its red, gold and orange soul was in perfect harmony
He showed it to his friends
They wondered how best to take care of the leaf
All had good intentions at first
Before long, an argument ensued
Jealous and parochial they chose to be
All claimed to know what was best
Each tugged at the leaf weakening it in the process
One walked out, not for respect of the leaf, but of hubris
Another chose to chew on it
Yet another chose to change its form
In all this, no one came in and spoke for the leaf
The leaf hangs in Alex's room, a slave to its once proud captor, forgotten
Waiting to be discovered
No comments:
Post a Comment
Mysterious and anonymous comments as well as those laced with cyanide and ad hominen attacks will be deleted. Thank you for your attention, chumps.