A leaf rolls by, on an early august
Mourning,
With wind by its side, in a sky,
Worth adorning.

Where will wind take, this leaf to its fate.
Is this love, or is it hate?

A breeze moves this leaf,
It lifts it up high
And allows it to fly,
But only by the wind and its sky.

Without the wind the leaf would land,
And have to learn it can not fly,
Only by wind in the sky.