Died

A leaf once wished

 

                  to be green
                  to be yellow
                  to fly
                  to be dry
                  to allow a spider to spin a web
                  to give a cocoon its bed
                  to fall on someone’s head
                  to be crushed before it’s dead
                  to feel the wind
                  to be picked up and placed in a book
                  to know an artist and a poet
                  to inspire
                  to make a tree bend
                  to reach a road’s end
                  to be a flower’s friend
                  to touch the moon and the sun
                  to call itself fun

 

It was a lucky leaf after all,
died and got most of the above all.