I hold this leaf This vessel of life Between my thumb and index A twist and it breaks While I am left without remorse. I am the autumn breeze stale, with the stench of death Tell me you're not this fragile, but with your lips moving, your eyes seeing, your hands holding on to this very tree we got the leaf from. Tell me you're not so fragile as to break like a loose stone. Tell me you would bear me; a little stooped but with your legs on the ground your teeth clenched from trying too hard. I will rise then myself, I swear if you do so I will exhaust my exiguous self for your sake and pride myself on the scars of the dying leaf.