Contributor: Michael Wheets

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Little leaves winging toward the ground
Little leaves soaring
Little leaves leaping into open air
And sliding silently through the stillness.

Will you still be as fresh a rose
When I return home?
Will you still smile as sweetly
As a maiden in the full blush of spring?

Or will you fall, wing toward the open
Like a leaf
Like a cast-off of autumn?

Will age take you in wrinkles?
A spreading darkness
Descending into crinkles
Nothingness.

Even as the brownest leaf, I would love you,
For in my mind,
You will always be
My rose.


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Michael Wheets is a part-time teacher in Ottowa.