Leaves

I thought a strange thing the other day,
I was watching brown leaves as they floated away,
And thought : "Those leaves are dead so why should they fly,
With such lightness and elegance, up into the sky?"
'Does life's departure make them so free
Or is it something else that I cannot see?"
Then it occurred to me, after a few days had passed,
That of course it was not the leaves elevating them so fast,
It was the wind; something I could not see
Begging them to live back up in the tree.
For although those leaves so wanted to fall
There was someone around who did not want that at all.
They didn't believe it when they breathed their last sigh
But there were more than they thought, who did not want to say goodbye.