stained
by the passing season
it fell down helplessly,
the branches
it once hold onto
denied it
without remorse—
as if the months
they've been together
didn't matter
didn't happen.

wind gushed
as it reached
the end of line
whispering
'your time is up'
'you should rest now',
and as the new
born leaves
began to sprout
and grow,
it lies on the ground—
stepped on,
forgotten.