Leaves fall they always fall
New leaves grow but never hold
Winds of winter leaves them
To wither and wander alone
Far from any palm or bark
No stone knows whose they were
Just as the tree stands
Shrugging its many shoulders
With its fickle fingers that are
A bend from breaking off
All leaves know this
They once belonged
To the canopy of trees
Then they danced as confetti
In the colours of the fall
Samuel Rubadiri 