Leaves In The Rain

Those slurping sound of leaves As the first runnel runs down Pulling them along its way; Sticking to mud, turning over And over, settling inside ditches They turn from green to gray; From the faint whistling of wind And dark clouds loitering as Monsters to melt and fall; Needle pointed leaves with newly Formed veins make their moods to Leave the fronds to take a stroll; Away from the womb somewhere In the flatness of a tilled field They fall silent, curled up, Soaked to the last vein, breathing Tales at the root of grasses, with No strength to rise up.