During my undergrad years, there was a brief moment of time in which I was exchanging leaves with a girl. This brief exchange led to a heartbreak that stayed much longer than the event itself. It was during this period I met another girl at a coffee shop. Fate would have it she was writing a paper for a class about a faux company called 'Leaf Marketing'. Other commonalities spurred my propensity to perceive this world as a romantic world, and thus I wrote her this poem.
Nothing prepares the world for winter as well as a drifting leaf.
Beginning a bud, it is immediately a symbol of coming warmth and life.
Sprouting from a tree, the leaf becomes one one of many among a bastion of green.
There, the collective selflessly provides for the tree while others seek refuge from the filtered sun rays.
Acting as one of many, a humble leaf diligently sustains life while making life comfortable for others.
Time progresses. The tree no longer has use for the leaf. In an effort to please, the leaf changes color - a striking red or a calming yellow. It wants the world to know it still has value, but eventually the tree decides to cast it away.
A leaf drifts through the air, now individual. It may no longer have any intrinsic value to the tree, but it still has value for those who dwell on the ground which the leaf decides to settle.
It stands as calming symbol for change to a period of hibernation; change to a time of little change. The fall is often celebrated through decoration which showcase the various colors an individual leaf may be. This amalgamation of color has a calming undertone, a warm brown.
Once the fall has happened, people lose interest in the vibrancy of these colors. A leaf knows this; it begins to fade. The green symbol of life is completely gone. All that remains are the groupings of the faded brown leaves which have either been left scattered or gathered into piles. All that stands are brown barren trees. People retreat indoors and snow begins to cover the remnants of autumn.
I've never been frustrated by a leaf. Even in the dead of winter, while the world is asleep, a leaf sometimes finds its way indoors. Its brown color is a reminder of the warmth that once was and the warmth that will be. The individual leaf may no longer be a symbol of life, but it certainly conveys warmth.
I tied this poem up with a line correlating the color of her eyes to the warm brown color that I describe in the poem. I wrote that this was the reason why I smiled when we first crossed paths.
Tragically, I can no longer smile when I see her. The same cannot be said about the leaf. This is despite the heavy association of heartbreak.
Still, I want to ease some of that heaviness; thus, I'm deciding to share this poem with whomever stumbles across it. I hope that it has some meaning for the reader which can help them on their path to fulfillment.