| An Old Friend He gasped unknowingly across my lawn, picking up what came before him, and leaving behind hallowed relics. Jerking and fighting with my cobblestone walk, he tripped upon the hem of my skirt. There he suspended before me, bowing down with his head on my winter boots. From far above, I could hear him whisper, (just a hint above a murmur) yet I heard him whisper into the cold winter snow. As quickly as he had come, he was off, running down the street and turning out of my sight. My head tilted towards the sky, I could still smell his faint earthy scent clinging to the air which ceased to elude me. Just as unwilling to let go, was a present left upon my skirt (just below my knee!) by my dear old friend. It adhered itself onto my cotton, it's many rigid edges digging and borrowing their way into my heart. A leaf. A simple gift. Simply heartbreaking. All that was left of our meeting: one dying, remorseful maple leaf. The one maple leaf which failed to be carried off by my dear old friend: The wind. |