Falling Leaves And Fulfilled Wishes Poem by Elizabeth Sheaffer

The tree inside my windows is
no longer fresh and green.
The leaves are crisply brown now,
and slowly drifting to the ground,
creating a pile at the base of my trunk.
Each day one of these leaves,
leaves which were once
bright, full and unfurled,
curls in on itself and
whispers down into
the ever-expanding pile.
The scene to some may seem
bleak, dreary and depressing,
but these dying leaves that
fall from my branches are
my goals and dreams,
and they curl up and fall
as I fulfill them in order to make way for
my future leaves.