Waiting for the old oak

The withered boughs of an old oak

Tower above a small leaf

As it hangs on for dear life.

A blanket of red, orange and yellow 

Smother the crooked branches.

The little leaf falls softly to the ground,

Buried in ones just like her.

She waits in the shade of the old tree,

Waiting, waiting.

Until soon the fractured light through other leaves was gone,

And all was dark.

The little leaf's hope was fading,

Then suddenly,

A child's laugh, quiet but full of joy!

Another one filled the silence.

The little leaf smiled and hugged the small hand lifting her 

Back up to the old oak

For whom she had patiently waited for.