The vicious breeze steals poor green leaves
In its most selfish of moments.
But when it sees the tree still stands
In fear, it begs for atonement.
It tries to throw the leaves with care
And lets them sail gently upwards
And lets them fall and die with flair
Coloured a rich, golden mustard
But as the cold winter arrives
It forgets all that it’s promised
The poor green leaves fall to the wind
like Anemones of Adonis
But yet, when spring returns again
The tree’s the wind’s dancing partner
For it feels sorry for the wind
Who has neither a friend nor a gardener.
(Photo Credit: http://www.fanpop.com)