I'm not sure

why every leaf

must die,

but there's a mirror

wrapped around the dew

when they rest

soft upon the soil,

and I close my eyes

everytime I break trail,

knowing

that this broken world,

will leave shards

in feet as I pass by,

and I will follow

her bloody tracks

into whatever waits

beyond the effects of sun.

I am the leaf

blowing in the wind

falling into dust

of autumn’s end

Death lingers

to capture

grey bones

and loose skin.

Severed from life

no longer

touched by love

hours hovering

at midnight.

I have wandered far

wasted dregs

forgotten and alone

equalized by death

churned into leaves

strewn at my feet

where I must rest

in the freedom

of the leaves.

I'm not sure why every leaf must die,

Falling as they do.

Their fragile stems let go one by one,

Releasing them down;

The ground is there to catch them, though,

Gently breaking the fall.

I'm not sure why every person must die,

Leaving as they do.

Their eyes close, their breathing stills...

Released from this world;

Who is there to catch me now, though,

Now that they are gone?

I'm not sure why it hurts so much,

To stand as I do,

Watching leaves fall to the ground,

One by one,

Around the gaping wound in the earth

Where a casket lies.

I'm not sure why there's such a beauty

In death,

Or how something tragic can give way

To something new.

Someone told me you can't experience joy

If you haven't pain.

I'm not sure why the trees keep growing

Leaves as they do,

Just for them to age and fall to the ground

Where they die.

Is this nature's way of staring a new,

Of moving on?

I'm not sure why the sun rises every morning,

Shining through clouds,

Never questioning that it is what it's supposed

To do?

Life doesn't always make sense, or seem fair,

But I'm not quitting.

I'm not sure why every leaf must die,

but in late Fall,

I sit out on my veranda,

or gaze out my window,

and watch,

as each separates from a limb of life,

and peer into their falling descent,

twirling, twisting,

weaving their own trail,

until finally resting on a patch of dirt;

a not-so final resting place.

It lays there, joining with a pack of thousands,

where once vibrant in its infantile greeness,

and has become a brown shell of itself.

From a bud to full-grown life,

to its death,

knowing, waiting for this secular moment,

almost human.

Then one day,

they are whisked away,

blown into the sands of time,

and when next gazing upon that patch of dirt,

they are no longer there,

That too, is almost human.

What is not human;

the miracle of their return.

The Mamas and the Pappas: https://youtu.be/N-aK6JnyFmk

"I'm not sure why every leaf must die,"

so said the cloud naively starting to cry...

his tears turned to ice and snow with a sigh

as he too disintegrated into the oneness of the sky

but we stood the test of time, for quite a while long

you, me and the tree, despite drab winter's uniformity

...there was a beauty in the waiting for all of us to see

as Spring came, dressing us once again, in resplendent finery

#ImNotSureWhyEveryLeafMustDie #Challenge #FreeVerse

"I'm not sure why every leaf must die."

My child said to I.

"That is the continuing cycle of life, my dear."

I assured her fear.

Life begins so small

Later it grows and grows tall

When the time comes at the end

Life will great death like a friend

Life was never meant to be forever

Immortality is an impossible endeavour

But do not fear your death someday

Enjoy the life you have with others today

And each day that follows from here on out

#poetry #life #death

I'm not sure why every leaf must die,

She took my hand as she drew me in,

My autumn and gold, my summer sin,

Yes the leaves are turning brown now,

My love is not as green as she used to be,

There's sadness in her eyes when she smiles at me,

I fall slowly, spiraling, like the oak leaves,

I fear the inevitable alas, I know it's too late,

We are fraying at the edges and winter await,

I'm not sure why every leaf must die,

Perhaps it's better not to dwell on such things,

For there is death and decay in even the most beautiful of springs.

I’m not sure why every leaf must die

How must they feel

To know there time will be so short

And to know no one will notice when they leave

The tree lives on

The tree gets to live for years to come

But the leaf must say goodbye

It’s too soon

Do they have less worth?

Were they brought to this world to help their master

Then look pretty

As they take their final breath

The tree does nothing

As the thing that once brought them life

Falls

Forgotten

It’s like they don’t care

What’s one leaf anyway?

They aren’t needed

There will be more

No one likes to admit it

But some lives

Were created

To be more important

Than others

The hard workers are forgotten

The lazy ones are remembered

The ones who make them beautiful

Are ignored

Lost amongst the treetop,

In the chilly autumn cold,

Is the last leaf of summer,

Withered now and old,

It hangs on by some miracle,

In the time of sleepless death,

The other leaves around it,

Are gone in autumns breath,

Winters clouds have gathered,

With frost upon the field,

But the last leaf of summer,

Holds on and will not yield,

The last leaf of summer,

Alone and out-of-time,

In contrast to the season,

A shadow of summer sublime,

The winds of Winter’s tempest,

Will tear you soon asunder,

You cycle of life completed,

Buried in a snowy wonder.

(c) BAM

I’m not sure why every leaf must die

colors so vibrant,

trees so plentiful,

scattered across the highway

outside my window...

even inside malls.

I’m not sure why every leaf must die

why they all must suffer the same fate

even the one that stays green the longest

or the last to remain clinging to its branches

I’m not sure I understand

confused or ashamed,

never learning the right

kicking the dead leaves with my feet

while I walk up my driveway

to collect the morning paper

Hearing the crunch,

seeing the decay,

smelling the air,

feeling the breeze,

cramming them into notebooks,

only to be forgotten for a century...

(I wrote all of this so far in under two minutes

is that okay?)

I’m not sure why every leaf must die,

but I’m certain as to why every leaf must live.

They give us breath.

They give us Instagram pictures in the fall.

They hide nature trails.......................................and

are beautiful to look at.....................................................and

make for the perfect pile to jump into when clustered together.......and

are a pain in the ass to rake.

(Okay, four minutes now. Putting the extra spaces before the “and’s” took several more seconds.)

I’m not sure why every leaf must die,

.....or what autumn must mean for the colorblind

..........or what sight must mean for those who cannot see

...............or why this poem keeps indenting to the right

....................but maybe I’m not supposed to know. (Six minutes.)

Maybe it’s soooooo important it requires an extra jump.

Or maybe I’m wrong. (Six fifteen.)

Who knows? (Six eighteen.)

After (Six twenty.)

all, (Six twenty two)

we (Six twenty three)

all (Six twenty four)

die (Six swenty seven)

in (Six twenty nine)

-THE END-