They are the only ones who excite me. I am the only one who admires them. One featherish leaf with holes on its face and colors all around. One against one million in the streets. One joyful crunch falling on the street. From your room you can see them, but you can’t hear them.
There life is secret. They send messages to the ground as there falling. They hold tight and they fall down and land on the earths grainy road and there colors and holes cry to the tree they fallen from. This is how they fall.
Let on forget his reason for being, they'd float around all day like feathers, each taking longer and longer to settle while they float. Swish, swish, swish they whisper. They screech.
When I am too colorful to keep crunching, When I have too many holes resting on the grainy road. When there is nothing left to look at on the trees. One who fell despite the gravel road. One who floated in the breeze and did not forget to land. One whose reason is for decoration.