The Final Drop
I am a humble leaf, upon this great big tree I grew.
I remember when my days were green; I could smell the early spring.
I sat and watched the chicklets hatch; oh the blessed things.
They chirped and crapped till the day they found their wings.
As lightning flashed and storms did shed their rain,
I fancied life what joy to live this dream.
I’m older now an amber hue I have a jagged edge;
I too must join the wind and float among the rest.
The things I’ll say to other leaves so different then I.
Like the great big maple leaf who floated right on by.
With a tri-corn shape and her majestic red,
She summersaults and dances in the wind.
Perhaps we all can be a leaf for in the end we leave.
We all have shapes and colors, we all have memories.
We all must dance a final dance as we twirl in the sky.
We all commence the final drop but not all of us must die.
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This poem was my meaning to leaving prison. I was scared and began to think about a new life.