A leaf upon the ground so brown,
Withered, lifeless, tumbling down,
It spins and twirls with careless ease,
Drifting aimlessly on the breeze.
.
No purpose left, no task to do,
No longer part of nature's queue,
It simply exists, without a goal,
A lifeless leaf, without a soul.
.
Yet still it moves, without a care,
Its pointless journey, unaware,
Of all the things it could have been,
If only it had stayed with kin.
.
But now it's here, it can't go back,
It drifts along a winding track,
And though its life may seem so small,
It's part of something greater, after all.
.
For every leaf that falls to ground,
Is part of nature's endless round,
And though it may seem pointless, true,
It's still a part of all we do.