A leaf
On flag stone
A simple thing
Yet how did it get here?
Trees surround me
Yet not the right type
Cherries abound
Apple and Pear
Alder and Willow
But no Sycamore.
A puzzle to ponder
How did you reach here?
Where are you from?
Where is your treeA
Where you grew
And fell
Do you know you don’t belong?
Yet who says?
Maybe you were made
For this single purpose
To spark this poem
To make me think
And write
Of your journey.
To recline in this place
And rather
Than not belong;
To stand out
To be unique
And be celebrated
For the wonder that you are.
The Running Poet 