One lone leaf.

Cold walk home.
The wind beats at my face then at my back.
My shoes crunch on the snowy sidewalk.
Windows steam up in protest to the cold.
I can't look inside to see what's there.
I feel alone.
I look down at my shoes and I see one lone leaf.
I step, the leaf rolls over.
Step, crunch, roll, step, crunch, roll.
My only friend at 5 in the morning.
I wondered how it survived into winter.
I wonder what it wondered about me.

So I found this after I walked home one night drunk. Apparently in my drunk state I thought I could write poetry (? is that what that is?) of some sort. I read it later and got a kick out of it, so I'm posting it, but don't worry my blog will not because a "Drunk Poetry Blog" Ha.