Friend

A sonnet to a leaf: A.K.A. the only thing anyone should ever write a sonnet to.

When I was young I did not have a friend

So good as you who slept there on the ground

In the season after the summer’s end

Oh, joy when I your bright colors had found!

 

From the grey earth you caught my youthful eye

I picked you up and called you my true love

I spun you and kissed you and watched you fly

I held you between my heart and my glove

 

Your life I did not know was fading fast

You hid the truth beneath your vivid skin

And I could not know what would come to pass

As the cold air drained you dry from within

 

And many a friend I’ve had since that day

But your memory still vivid does stay

Author's Note

I tried to keep this in Iambic Pentameter as best as I know how. It was a little project of mine. Any comments or critiques are always welcome!