A Mindless Fate

I’m not sure why every leaf must die.

There comes a day when one does try

To hang on to its sturdy friend

But this one’s life, must too, end.

It joins the mass grave of fallen colors

Finding a place to rest among its brothers.

The colorful pile might bring some joy

To a photographer or a jumping boy.

But most become composted gunk

Wallowing there beneath the trunk.

Let’s celebrate their mindless fate

And for their return patiently wait.