The Leaf's Fate

This is a little something I wrote about six months ago. It is short, but nice. Makes you think and it means something different to everybody. I've heard people relate it to the life of an orphan, though I wrote it with the image of somebody who had lost something dear. 

The leaf, dragged into the malevolent summer gale, was taken with no choice in the matter. It was plucked from the branch with which it had stood proudly; taken from that with which it stood for. It was stolen from it's sole reason, thus losing it's will for living. Without the tree, the leaf has nothing.

It was now stuck upon the endless breeze of adversity. The leaf has long become a mere existence. Without a reason for living, it was only existing. Not going anywhere, just resting in the breeze, waiting for the wind to reveal the next destination. The leaf cannot decide it's next destination, for it's greatest desire, a memory of the past, was long lost in the endless wind.

The merciless wind has handed the leaf it's final destruction. The pitiful existence of the leaf. It was dragged from that it cherished and left for the hounds to stomp upon. Unable to return and tormented with the wind's silent act. The leaf eventually withers, alone and far from that it had held dear. 

Such is the fate of the pitiful leaf.