From the trees, the leaves fall to the ground a crashing
To think, these leaves were once so green,
And how they've seen their brightest day.
Now, here they lay, gold and brown,
Following the path of a mighty wind,
Each goes its way - not knowing what life will have to lend.
No matter how much more time they have
There's still some pleasure to be seen
When you look at these golden leaves and think
How life has finally set them free.
Lucinda Rainbolt Scola