Little Lonely Leaf

The leaf is a young boy who is lost in the crowd.
He does not say a word, he does not cry aloud,
But I hear as I walk by, the leaf says to me:
“Michael, be my friend, for the other leaves won’t be.”
I see in the plant as I hold it in my hand
That once it was happy, not away from its band.
“I can tell you some stories, some scary, some sad,
But some are quite happy, about good times I’ve had.
I know you must have some things that you want to share,
So as you sometimes say, come now, pull up a chair.”
It told me of fun times it had with its tree,
And how it fell down, somewhere no one could see.
Then all the other leaves, having seen it fall down,
Did not lend a hand, but just left it on the ground.
I told how I needed a shoulder to lean on;
It listened like a diary while I droned on.
It listened as attentively as a friend should
And said, “I’d help you out, if only I could,
For since I’m off the tree, I’ll soon be long gone,
But I’ll be your friend, and you’ll be my only one.”