Pink foliage lined the park’s avenue,

the autumn’s vermilion glory,

a shield from the city.

The path meandered past the mahogany benches

and the flock of pigeons.

Sun beat down on the cherry blossoms,

an opportunity for me to see

It fall. A leaf, taking a final

breath on its journey down to Earth.

As I stood there, clasping my father’s hand,

I thought: why must beauty fade?

All good in the world is subject

to death, a force none escape.

Grace is a temporary gift bestowed upon

man, one that shrouds the darkness of life

under a veil of elegance.

Who am I to question the ways

of the world, a nondescript student

with as little power as that lonesome leaf?

Time passes. The door of beauty closes,

and all succumbs to the hammer of eternal rest.

We are all just leaves

falling from a cherry blossom.