The Leaf That Talks to Itself

there are lines on this leaf

cutting straight across 

its sides halved even when whole 

yet there isn’t anything 

equal about them 


this side is longer 

at the tip they do not converge 

instead they reach for the bright spot 

nearer to the right 

but far from the left 


they grow unequally 

stronger, weaker 

faster, slower 

light and dark 

sun-kissed coats, shadowed-stains 


clouds part to give way to blue skies 

‘why must you be greener than me’ 

lighter than fair, it sparkles and whines 

tip and waxy face tilting away 

to face the leafy shadows 


the hidden face meets its gaze 

a mix of trembling fright and defiance 

of bitter, ever so bitter resigned fury 

‘it is you who have everything’ it says 

and it shook from the effort 


weak from without 

it hungers for the golden warmth 

thirsts for a brief respite from the cold 

these were old pains 

unknown by the other half 


so fair and flushed with abundance 

yet greed paints it darker than any colour 


they feel the sudden, bold approach 

on their soft, brittle spines


sunlight beamed 

shining off the backs of ladybugs 

those beady eyes fixated on them 

uncaring of their dividing lines 

dismissive of their differing hues 


feelers twitching, their maws open wide 

preparing for a hearty munch 

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