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-