Leaves 

Falling away from their home

Some with struggling grip on the emptiness around them.

God wishing to turn over anew,

but pondering which to pull and which to leave

Many would incline themselves willingly,

Fleeting with the wind in a withdrawal so lief

That even those still with a stronghold on the branch 

Are inclined to relieve it

A small few, a stubborn few, refuse to believe

That this autumn breeze does nothing but

Bereave them of

The ones they love

The ones they cared for

The ones they touched

And the ones that came before

But the few, the stubborn few, forgot the simple truth

That once life arrives

It always 

Leaves