My life seems like a wayward leaf
Up and about swaying at the whims of the cruel wind.
If only it had a place to stay… where its shape and colour didn’t
Where only its thoughts counted
Where it was not at the mercy of the wind… where the cold frost
could not touch it.
So it would wait… wait for the spring and the kind sun to take it
where it belongs.
~ This site keeps going through the kind support of people like you.