Autumn

It has been happening for a while now - the transformation. It's like a slow pulsing through my veins that is subtle but prominent enough that I cannot quite ignore it.

Instead of feeling vibrant and full of life, I have begun to feel as though I am curling at the edges; is this what they call "old age"? I am concerned that I have turned a peculiar colour. I remember whispers in the trees about this time of year - the time of change. It feels as though spring was just yesterday.

Now, suddenly, I am tired and lifeless. People stop and stare to admire me and my comrades - we are all in this together. Our proud golds and reds and browns compliment each other perfectly. We must be beautiful, but I know I certainly don't feel it. 

I hear a rustling that signifies a final goodbye from some of those close to me. It's time now for me, too, to complete my short journey. With a breeze as soft and quiet as a whisper, I detach from the branch that has been my life line for two seasons. As I flutter effortlessly to the ground, I can't help but feel satisfaction in the fact that I looked wonderful until the very end. 

Haiku

Wherever you are

We see the same stars and moon

And I'm not alone

Stars

My eyes rise to the skies

And the stars wink at me,

As if to let me know

That they see me too.

I try to count -

Eight billion? Nine?

A trillion? Ten?

Each time I blink, I lose count.

I feel so small,

Like a toddler in a field

Of long, tall grass.

I am miniscule.

A sadness constricts my heart

As I realise, with dread,

That the beauty I see,

The stars, are already dead.