Fallen leaves on the soiled ground,
I like the only one in green, with shreds of yellow spots;
‘Cause it’s green and stands out bright-
Immature it is- a misfit in the current lot.
As I stooped to pick it up,
A gust blew it away,
As all others stayed in place.
Am I dreaming?
Did it defy the laws of nature?
As if in intoxication, I kept chasing it,
Following like a mother separated from her baby,
Pausing to convince me- it’s illusive.
There are dreams I am chasing,
Which come with laws that are dissenting.
Am I dreaming or should I keep chasing?
Or am I following a leaf from the Bodhi Tree?