Unclaimed fallen leaves

Spring winds clean winter branches Leaves billow far from home A maple tree sheds its own in tune No one is around to collect them Flat and perfect to be pressed in a book Unlike humanity’s tree in March It sheds its leaves year-round We gather around its floating remains We mourn our buds yet unfurled We cry when our crimson leaves fall But some are not so lucky Some are unclaimed and unloved leaves Like dead leaves blown by Spring winds Ordinary as the ones that pass you by No one to press them between leaves They belong to the careless breeze Free to disappear from existence There is a terror in freedom Adrift and alone With no one to catch one from falling As our stems fail and we fall A human fallen leaf is a sad sight Sadder when no one catches them No one to press in a folio Place a gravestone as a bookmark A novel with pages forever shut Never to see the light of day Isn’t it better to land on the ground With all the other compost? All the leaves nameless alike Under the cruel sunshine Under the cool moonlight Rather than a maple leaf loved Safely tucked in a page Between nine and infinity? Those who have no one who loves them Those maple leaves unclaimed Make the pages for those who are loved Like fallen and unloved maple leaves Still making the soil we tread upon