By Eileen Kerketta
When the leaves fell asleep,
Lulled by a soft autumn breeze,
A girl was born—
Ambushed by a morning sneeze.
She followed the wind with a childlike grin,
Dancing through woods she’d never been.
There, she met a friend in the trees,
And said hello with shaky knees.
They laughed, they cried,
Seasons passed, and winter sighed.
The friend would go, then reappear—
Each time, she waited, shedding fear.
With each return, the friend grew cold,
Less vibrant—more withdrawn, more old.
But the girl—now a curious teen—
Grew bold, grew brave, grew evergreen.
One rainy day, thunder cracked the sky.
“Why come back when the world is grey?” she cried.
The friend replied with silent grace:
“I never left—I changed my face.”
The storm became her secret prayer,
A place to breathe, to shed despair.
She saw herself within that friend—
Both a beginning and an end.
Now a woman with a steady flame,
She walks the woods and calls her name.
The leaves don’t die; they only fall—
To rise again when October calls.