HEYYYYY omg this is my hundredth post. :) it feels kinda fitting, you know, that this is the last post, since there is a limit to the number of chapters per story, and the year's ending. Anyway, I'll set up a new book soon, but until then, this is like the last poem for this poem. I'm happy. My first poem started with a fairytale, and my last poem is a happy one(unlike the sadistic ones), so it has come full cycle. YAY! Anyway, this is a magical belief of mine. Enjoy!
I always believed that if you caught a leaf,
Before it touches the ground.
You get a happy day,
No matter how much you’re obstacle-bound.
Because a leaf, even dead or withered,
Represents a great amount of hope.
I’m not sure if you feel the same way,
But catching is as addictive as dope.
That childlike wonder when you look in the sky,
Trying to spot a dot in the glare,
Is a wonderful experience;
A simple belief broken with that stare.
The magical quality when the leaf floats,
Right straight into your hand.
That’s the best part,
For you never had that wish or plan.
When you close your fingers around it,
You can hear the slight crinkle of its weathered surface.
I tell you, it’s the magic being released,
Drifting around you, finding its place.
After that, you look at the sun again,
And you find the peace that has evaded you.
You start to smile and be really happy,
For the magic of the leaf has chased away the blues.