With a gust of cooling air
The journey begins
Born for this
You proudly decent
The warmth of the sun hidden
The cold has begun
As you come from your roost
Floating a little at a time
Another gust of wind
You crackle and creak
While you are pushed
A down farther yet
A final burst of wind
And the decent is almost over
You come to rest with a gentle touch
On a moss covered stone
What it would be like
To feel that free
To be a leaf
Falling from a tree