A Leaf in Fall

The following short/poem/writing (whatever you want to call this) is one I that I wrote based on a writing prompt. I wrote my thoughts as a leaf in the autumn.

Warning! It is quite a bit morbid as I have an active imagination.

My life, it is almost over. None of us are sure when we will fall, or how, but we all will at some point. My time here was so short it seems. I came from a flower, a tiny little flower.

Amazing really.

I’ve seen so many things under me, people walking to and fro, many hugs, some kisses, even tears. I’ve watched the birds fly overhead, large and small, some metal, some feathered. I’ve survived through storms and I’ve never run out of food, unlike some of my friends a few branches over who have been cut off from the tree then ended up starving and suffocating. I’ve watched other branches break or snap and all the while, mine has remained strong.

I’ve learned that there is so much beauty in the world around me, but also there is so much pain. I don’t want to leave this place.

Why must time fly so quickly? Here in spring and gone in fall. I will never get to experience the snow, see the tree almost bare. I am so jealous of the pine tree’s needles. Why do they not die in the fall? Why are we so cursed? I suppose focusing on the negatives won’t help anything…but it’s so hard to be happy when you know that death is knocking at your door.

One thing I guess I am grateful for is the fact that I am closer to the bottom of the trunk than the rest of the leaves. My branch is the lowest one there is. Perhaps I will live long enough to see the first snowflake. But that also means that I will watch as all my friends suffocate and fall to their death. Oh is there any end to the sadness of fall? I hear people commenting at how gorgeous the leaves are this time of year. If only they knew what they were saying. How much pain and sadness it brings us each time we hear those words.


I can feel the life force of the tree slowly retreating to its roots. Hiding underground until it’s safe to return once more. I can see my tips turning orange and I can no longer feel them. How much longer must this last? Only to live one summer. One glorious summer.


It’s so painful! Goodbye cruel world!!

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