Why can't I be a leaf?
Soft and leathery.
Smooth and soft like silk.
Slick and thick like oil.
Tough like fabric or plastic.
Fragile like paper.
A popping and vibrating green,
with veins that creep out
in every direction.
Hanging on to my life support
that takes shape as a maple tree.
And sway in the wind like water
in a sea of green.
I would live for one season,
and go from vibrant green
to cherry red
to orange
to a dull yellow
then finally part from my tree
and slowly drift to the ground
where i would turn stiff and brown,
crispy and misshapen.
Letting the wind blow me away
and willingly go where it took me.
Then crunch under some humans' feet,
and have my life end there.
Why can't i be a leaf?
Live for one season and then die.
Being a leaf would save me
from the pain and sarrow
of life.
From the misery
of life.
I wouldn't have to suffer
and face the hardships 
of life.
I wouldn't have to feel the hot,
fat, stinging tears running down my face.
Why can't i be a leaf?