Dry, crisp, brittle leaves were strewn
across the forest floor almost like fallen
soldiers in the battlefield laying in ruin.

But to children this forest was a playground
where children could access their imagination
and build piles of leaves like fortresses.

These fortresses would later be blown
away by giant gusting winter storms.
Leaves were no match for the winds, but still
they fought on willing themselves not to tear,
for if they did it would be like hundreds
of little hearts shattering from sorrow.

Come spring, the little brittle leaves have
been blown away and in their place grow
beautiful lavender flowers like a big purple
blanket on which the children now lay on
remembering their fallen friends.

*In memory of those brave little leaves