A poem on change, in light of the season.
Spoke to a tree
and it said to me:
“I’m worried that I’ve gone bad.
My leaves are looking awfully drab.
They are turning brown
and falling down.
What a horrible sight to see.”
You are just ahead of your time.
The other trees will follow close behind.
Come this November,
you’ll hardly remember
feeling different at all.
This is just what happens in fall.
You’re a beautiful sight to me!”