Fallen

The leaf, deckle-edged, heart-shaped,

lies between  puddle and cracked pavement,

brown-rimmed, red at the core.

She cannot return to the tree, to the twig

that held her by a thin stem for so long,

to the branch that shadowed her tracery.

The wind has had its way with her.

A veined, fleshed survivor.

A lost valentine.

© Copyright, 2014, Donna Pucciani.All Rights Reserved.