Tuesday, November 23, 2010

The Stubborn

He tries,
he holds on,
struggling,
battling himself
to stay.
He turns red
with anger,
with pressure.
He weakens,
his stem loses its clenching
grip.
Spiraling to the ground,
flicked by the whistling
Wind's ominous
fingers.
He travels
resting in Wind's
coat pocket.
Eventually Wind is disgusted
at his color.
He is now brown,
old and forgotten by
nature.
Just another leaf
on the earthy ground.



Em J.