Leaves
A leaf spirals down
Glint red-gold
Brittle brown
Above the park pavement.
The children pause
Pensive watching
Still as stone
Observing it fall.
A filigree fire
A dying hope
A simple leaf
A life.
When the breeze picks up
Dark blue howling
Sunlight catching
The leaf is tossed.
It tumbles cloudwise
Control lost
Edges tearing
Then drops violently.
Again and again it flies
Forever free
Imprisoned in wind
Never to kiss the earth.
A golden strand
A rising star
A shade of green
A life.
Then a statue moves
Red mittens
Long hair
Reaching up to the sky.
The leaf falls
Gently landing
Softly slipping
Into her waiting hands.
A piece of self
A scarlet shard
A leaf...
A life.
If you were a falling leaf,
I would catch you.
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Sharon Harrison
Someone once told me that the best times come from the hardest times. I believe that this is true. I discovered poetry at the lowest point in my life, and now use it to express the whole kaleidoscope of my world. Poems are the opposite of the scenic route. They dive in and dig deep, touching where it hurts and where the healing begins. All humans have poetry - poems are the music that flows through our veins - but some people are tone-deaf. Listen to yourself. There's a lot to hear.
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