If I were a single leaf, up high on an oak tree,
I wonder how would I perceive, the things far down below me,
From my perch up there, looking out intently far and wide,
Wondering whether I would care, for what lies on my side.
Below me I see men, briskly walking to and fro,
A continuous motion without end; a never-ending flow,
Of people always moving, coming quickly past,
- Simply of life and living, passing by so fast.
Each one looks so insignificant, like a speck in the sand,
But am I really so ignorant, until I mistook their intent?
The urge and the pain, the burning desire in their eyes,
- The surge and the rush, to achieve something in their lifes.
For every leaf is unique, different in it’s own special way,
Yet each fitting with a click, together somewhere in the puzzling away,
Of different shapes and colours, ever-changing in the glint of light,
Like a meadow of flowers, growing up (hopefully) strong and bright.
