I see them falling,
And soon I will follow.
The ground is calling.
I see orange and red.
The wind soaring above my head,
As I drift lower to the soft grass below.
I see the ground looking at me,
Like a soft warm bed.
The trunk vast and wide,
Becoming further and further behind.
I see the bright blue,
I wonder if I’ll ever fly again,
Flowing through the sky like an orange flame.
I see lonely branches,
Sad as I drift away,
Knowing I won’t ever return.
As I land on the soft, green grass,
A million leaves surround me.
Hundreds of others lying beside me.