Falling down with ease and serenity
Drifting off the tree with an autumn breeze
Dropping slow trying to find its destiny
The breeze could carry it far overseas

It has a color of brown, green, or red
Landing on the ground, it crumbles in ten
People walk around crushing it dead
Season of pretty leaves stumbles again

Children run around looking for memories
Through the rivers, rocks, and stone they find me
My aged body, found after centuries
Running around like it’s a Grand Prix

Taking me back from my aged willow
Putting me beneath their warm pillow

Michael Maciejewski ’18