I made this poem back last November, while I was walking to school one day. I was really depressed and it just kind of popped into my head.
The leaf, he hangs up in the tree,
high in the air above me.
He sits and sways in the breeze so free,
and touches the sky in his tall old tree.
His life has been the same far back as he can see,
so he wishes to fall upon the ground and walk along like me.
But the tree will not let go and let him leave the to be,
like man whom walks along the ground as far as they can see.
No, it holds him there sad as can be,
for he was never free.
No, he is a part of that great and tall old tree,
and will never move along the ground as like a man like me.
Till the great tree sleeps and drops it leaves as is the autumns fee,
and that leaf will die upon the ground and then decay like me.