Arbor Day Poem by R. C. Welford

A single crumpled leaf,
Folds itself along the stones,
That are paved beneath my feet.
As this concrete wasteland,
Tumbles never-ending into view,
That single crumpled leaf,
Stays with my shoes and it stays true;
To the path that it is blown upon,
It tries not to grab the cracks,
Between paving or the curb.
Maybe it is just that it lacks,
The thought to throw itself,
An entirely different way,
But I think, it is simpler,
I think it waits for Arbor day,
To see the beauty of life,
Through the eyes of itself;
To see others grow and find,
That in and of itself,
It is here only to help,
To learn, change, crumple and blow,
Along the pavement of life.
This, this I know,
Because that leaf has led me,
For years now, under my boots,
I have followed, not asking,
Where it lays it's own roots,
And it may turn, lead me back,
But in the end, I will crumple;
I will tumble along these city streets,
And find a small bundle,
To lead for myself.