The Leaves

Leaves tumble like years,
never what they once were,
drained, lost in their way,
trembling in the cold
chill of damp night air
after a day of rain
until the warmth of sunrise
touches them.
Delighting, the leaves find
the strength to sigh.

Were it in the realm
of possibility,
I’d collect each leaf,
restore it to its spring beauty,
bundle them into decades,
and gift them to you.

But it is a silly
before coffee morning thought
as we both know leaves like years
cannot be reclaimed and restored
and smile at the thought.