This poem is written by me. I honestly have no idea why I felt like writing on this subject. Maybe that night I was feeling too ordinary and I felt like writing about it.
A Mediocre Path
A leaf’s touch
so gentle, so weightless
clinging to a branch,
like a feather to a bird.
When time has come for it to leave its branch,
it does so with outmost love,
as if detaching itself from its support
to become independent.
It sways gently to the ground,
letting the wind provide its destination.
Rustling and rolling over hills and mountains,
it lands itself amidst a river, floating down the surface,
mesmerized by the friendliness of the water.
Soon, tidal waves approach,
leaving no choice to the leaf except to be engulfed by the water,
drop itself down within a waterfall,
And become yet another leaf
among the shores of a newly born lake.
A leaf’s touch
so gentle, so weightless
clinging to a branch,
like a feather to a bird.
When time has come for it to leave its branch,
it does so with outmost love,
as if detaching itself from its support
to become independent.
It sways gently to the ground,
letting the wind provide its destination.
Rustling and rolling over hills and mountains,
it lands itself amidst a river, floating down the surface,
mesmerized by the friendliness of the water.
Soon, tidal waves approach,
leaving no choice to the leaf except to be engulfed by the water,
drop itself down within a waterfall,
And become yet another leaf
among the shores of a newly born lake.
Copyright ©2008
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