Landing on the highest patch
farthest from the stem,
she buoyantly thrusted on the tip of the leaf
as she waited,
waited for the next calling of the wind.
See, she didn't hold a plan,
but bore a goal.
Trusting only on the emblem of light.
The maze of the leaf's veins being the map to her destination.
Near the bottom shivered a puddle of rain.
There she saw nothing reflected.
She inherited the marks of darkness
she thought of as corrosion.
See, she didn't understand the elegance of her red dress
flirting without her permission.
Waiting no longer,
she rode the next sigh.
Relying solely on the warmth trailing her next land.