One Brown Leaf

Some leaves, before they die

Turn into bright and deep colors.

And we call it beautiful.

And we somtimes forget that they are dying.

And we have the gall to take pictures,

Of these deaths.

Some leaves burn bright red

Or kindle a soft yellow and orange.

But one brown leaf,

Is the last to drop,

The last to rake,
A brown leaf is without it's beautiful shroud.
Because it lived the longest,
Because it died the slowest,

And we call it ugly.