"The Leaf"

I saw a fragile leaf

It lay on the ground, alone.

It was dry and brown and fragile.

I looked at it and did not see something dead…

I saw beauty,

I knew that it had once possessed life.

It had been through the cycle, and died.

I decided to hold it between my fingertips,

And gazed at it for a while,

Reminiscing of the feeling

Of being once alive.

I decided to burn it.

I held the stem and lit the tip of the leaf…

It did not burn easily,

As if there was a stubborn will within it

To remain.

It finally burned, all the way down to my fingertips.

I watched the ashes float away in the night breeze,

Carrying with them all memory of its existence.

The heat faded, and the smoke drifted,

And then there was nothing.

It was gone.

I reflected.

I equated the leaf to the heart.

It can go from being so full and alive,

New and fresh and growing,

To being withered by the weather

And forgotten by all.

Dry, ugly, and alone.

But once in a while,

Someone, somewhere, will see beauty,

Even in it’s dried up state,

And want to hold it.

But if that someone decides to burn it,

It is, at that point, too fragile to withstand the flame….

And it will wither

And be forever gone.

A heart can only take so much

Before it dies.