Comparing human lives to those of leaves

 Old Leaves

In the spring of time
we waved in the breeze,
full of color
and life if you please.
Covering the tree
with shades of green,
waving in the wind
and loved to be seen.
We played in the rain
and fed the trunk,
sometimes the wind whipped up
and we really felt drunk.
Waving and sighing
on the least little breeze,
so green and lovely
in the tops of the trees.
Alas, fall is now upon the air,
the sun is less and we despair.
Still laughing and swaying
as we begin to change.
Green is gone,
replaced with red,
gold, and orange instead.
Now the winds blow
and it rattles our stems,
as one by one
we depart from the limbs.
Our fall is so graceful
gently swaying to the ground.
Our tree is still sturdy,
it stands tall and bare,
it’s limbs now rattle
in the cold winter air.
So now we are brown
and oh so still,
just old leaves,
lying on the ground.