Poetry

I had a dream, a simple dream,
‘bout little leaf floating down a stream.
She wound her way past flower and tree
unashamed of her anonymity.
But the big boulders
that blocked her merry path
did mock her mediocrity,
and laugh.
The little leaf could not be riled
and, as she danced and swirled o’er the water
she smiled.
For, with the new day,
they’d still be there
but she’d be far away.