A falling leaf

Dark skeleton trees of autumn tinted with shades of yellow and olive green glisten under the faint light. Yet I just notice the falling leaf. Green towards the base, latching onto the branch with dried and pale yellow outskirts. Almost lifeless. I stare harder at its struggle of trying to maintain a firm hold on the stem but a gust of wind strips it bare of life as it cascades down reluctantly. And almost like a reflex, my mind is filled with thoughts reflecting how I am, a falling leaf.

My heart is still green at the base, thumping in jerks and keeping me alive by holding onto life yet I’m ‘just tired’ on the outside, dried and pale. Weary of this world.

And this society? It is the harsh wind that drives the strength out of me, compelling me to let go.

Because I know it’s just autumn now and the spring shall come someday, when my outsides will shine again with shimmering hues of green.

But I’m adamant about not giving up. I don’t want to loosen my grip on life. I don’t want my existence to be buried beneath this trodden earth. I don’t want people to trample over me just like a blanket of dried leaves gets crushed under our feet. Because I know it’s just autumn now and the spring shall come someday, when my outsides will shine again with shimmering hues of green. And this depressing yellow won’t be my only identity. Perhaps yes, I will wait until the spring comes someday.