This little leaf I hold in my hand,
for fear it should escape into the air
and take my joy, my memories and
leaving me greying in despair.
A tree once golden now dies,
her bones now marrowless.
Her blood holds only goodbyes,
Behold! life in its narrowness.
Above the earth, below the sky,
I can hear the joyful cry,
They hug and love under my light,
as I display my colours bright.
An old tree stands by the edge of a cliff,
awaiting, awaiting the waters to lift.
The waves he cherishes like God's gift,
but through weeds and mountains he must first sift.
I try to put it out,
but it rises like the sea.
I'm full of doubt;
Is this all I'll ever be?