It was the leaf that spoke first

It was the leaf that spoke first

A dry, fragile memory
of something once living,
hurrying down the sidewalk
pursued by the wind

Thrown against my foot
it looked up
and quickly whispered

"Don't be sad.
It is as it must be"

And I remembered your dream
of the old tree that was crying.
How you held that tree,
and stroke its bark,
whispering

"The leaves have only gone
so that they may come again"

It was the leaf that spoke first

Now I hear your voice
in the murmuring of strangers

I sense your laughter
in the merriment of chimes

And I feel your gentle touch
in each passing breeze.