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,

Floating above.

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.