the haunting of autumn

I'm cold.
I can feel that there will be change soon.
I was once a beautiful green, holding onto the old Maple tree.
Now, in September as Fall has come upon me, I can tell.
My friends are slowly turning different colors, gold, orange, red and brown.
Some have lost their grip onto Maple and slowly drift down to their doom.
It's been fifteen days in counting and still no sign of the weather improving.
The Maple talks to us, tells us to let go.
She says we will be back in the spring.
I can't let go, I'm too scared.
It's been forty-seven days now, and I am loosing touch with reality.
I imagine myself, the wind taking me away.
How nice the breeze used to feel in the summer making us dance.
How the people would rely on us to shade them from the sun.
How the rain would feel wonderful running down Maple to us.
Slowly I slip, and let go.
As I imagined it was splendid, the breeze guiding me.
Taking me down to the covered Earth where I see my friends lay.
Maple was right, it was nice to give in.