An Early Plucking

A prematurely plucked tree leaf lies silent and still
in my hand.
As I gaze upon its siblings who on the limb still
Will they mourn his absence – this leaf now forever
Or will they take no notice and uncaring, go on?
Will they miss its comforting touches once felt during
a breeze?
Or will they satisfy each other and have no need to

Up close I can see the visible void where the
severed strands still dangle,
Reaching and stretching as if they hope to wrangle
The leaf back from its untimely death.
Yet all is in vain – the leaf has no life or breath.

From a distance the void fades from sight – no longer
does its absence show.
The next traveler to trek this path will never know
The tragic events of this day.
Step by step unaware as he hikes on way.

I am like this leaf – merely a part of the Tree
of Life.
My absence would be noted (or not) as such,
if I fell before my Time.


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