Leaves
They fall like the tears of a broken heart
they fall from the trees as if nothing but a passerby.
Off to go down the path they've chosen for themselves.
These leaves, like I, drift further and further away from where they came,
until nothing that they leave behind remembers them.
They are but memories, fluttering away with the wind,
memories soon forgotten.
But these leaves create something in their solitude,
they create a paradise for their own existence.
it is theirs, and theirs alone, never to be shared.
Are people so different?
