Like the Leaf

The twig sways in the autumn wind,

its last leaf, though curled and brown,

clings to it improbably,

not ready yet to let go.

A baby holds on tightly to it's mother's hands,

like the leaf trying to hold onto the twig;

the only security it's ever known,

fearful to let go

as it tentively takes its first step.

Like a green leaf grows from a bud,

so too, the child matures;

part of a greater whole, yet separate,

struggling to hold on

against the winds in life

'til curled brown with age,

clinging to existence

like the last leaf in autumn,

waiting for that fateful strong breeze.

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