I always believe that green will always be your color. I always cherish your color of green; the symbols of life, spirit of life, beauty. You used to be up there hanging on a certain branch—so high that I hardly can reach you. But this makes me always longing to climb up the tree and touch you. As simple as that. I have never think of picking you and then putting you between pages of my favorite book, so I can have you always. All I want is to see you staying green on your branch, lively, and fresh as morning dews or rain drops in the afternoon wash you through.
Up to this day, I have never climbed that tree and sat on the branch where you belong. I’m too cowards to give it try. But this morning, I picked a ladder in the backyard--it seems that my father used it yesterday to cut some trees--and encouraged myself to climb the ladder and climbed on your branch. The ladder is too short that I couldn't go further, closer to you. But this was the first time I could see you this close. I sat on the lowest branch. Since I was afraid to climb higher, I was quite happy to be that high, that close to you. And I am sure, you could feel and hear me. Right?
Uhmm, what do I expect, anyway? Sitting there for a while and doing nothing! When I was thinking about this, all of sudden, I was worried about you. I wished that you were different leaf. I wished you wouldn't change color as typical leaves. That is why I stood up and tried to get you. Useless. You were just so far away up there. The morning sun was shining on you--on your wet surface because of morning dews. You had never been looked this fragile and attractive at once. I suddenly knew that the time was coming soon. You slowly were changing color into yellow. It made me sad. But somehow I felt pleased for I had tried to reach you. If tomorrow the autumn wind fails you to the ground, I won’t feel so miserable—I hope.
It was raining cats and dogs this afternoon. The wind blew harder as it used to. The sky was far from blue. Then, I just knew it; it was the time!
When the rain stopped, I rushed to the yard and there I saw you. Yellow and wet.
Adieau.
***
NB:
No matter what, you were my green leaf. Ever.
but an old oak tree:
