Witness

When the shooting star

Was trying

To pause between

Life and death

It was calling for help;

The sky was silently

Watching.

When the severed leaf

Was trying to rest

Between breaths

It was screeching for help;

The tree, a witness

Became its shelter,

But it was too light,

Way too detached

To stay put.

A somnambulist writer

Was watching the sky

Underneath the tree.