I am not the leaf that yellows and browns
and floats to the ground
as the world watches on….

I am not the leaf that dries and gets crusty,
and brittle and breaks
I am not the leaf that’s pierced by the rake.

I am not the leaf whose destination’s unknown
I am not the leaf that by the wind is thrown.

No, I am not the leaf tossed by the tempest storm
And I am not the leaf that’s stepped
on the sidewalk till worn

I am not the leaf.

I am not

the leaf

No

I am not the leaf.

Lightening strikes

from a cloudless sky

when the weather seemed just fine

like a cracking whip from a stiff curled lip

from a place you can’t define.

And the rain comes down……

and it’s bittersweet

washes the fear away…

yet for another day

then the sky turns pink

so that’s what I think?

But can we really rely

on that pink painted sky

to bring forth a fair tomorrow?

or  will acid rain

burn me with disdain

leaving me in a sea of sorrow?