The Leaf
The Leaf
The rays
Soak the water from the leaf
The leaf dries
It can’t be itself
Fresh and green
It hurts
When your survival
Makes you suffer
Takes you other survivals
Like the water
However
The leaf accepts
Let everything be itself
No matter how
It feels.
Evening percolates calmness
The rays aren’t there anymore
The leaf
Becomes
Fresh and green.
It has found its comfort
By passing over the rays
