I Hold Death in My Hand

I Hold Death in My Hand

In my hand I hold a leaf.

Only a few months ago it was green and crisp and full of life.

Now it lays on my palm faded beyond belief.

Its skin is the tan of aged parchment, showing the scars of strife.

There is a jagged hole near the uppermost tip.

The blood that coursed through its veins is dark and brown.

The other day a wind blew through the trees, looking for life to strip.

This leaf was ripped from its anchor and gently floated down.

Little leaf, you've done your duty.

You've fed the tree with the help of water soil and sun.

I hold you in my hand and marvel at your faded beauty.

I cannot but be sad that your time on this harsh earth is done.