Prose

Little Leaf

I touch and I caress the leaf and I ask it

‘How did you get here, little one?’

But I do not hear its answer for it speakn’t a language I can understand.

But I wait around and see if it will utter something still, and I watch it grow and thrive and wither and die, and I wonder if after all we may have some words in common.

13.X.2024

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