The little leaf....

I pity the little leaf
Noone notices it, all they see is the tree
The hugely spread tree
With millions of leaves
All overshadowing each other
Yet none do we see
Except for the tree
Who in itself would have hardly any identity
Had it not been for the leaf losing its individuality
It is the little leaf which bears it all
The brutal rain, the scorching sun, the dusty wind
And still stick to its stem it does
while crying tears of pain
which we see as beautiful dew
Or even after-effects of rain
while the strong tree stands tall
But finally the leaf loses the struggle
Withered, each falls
In its own time
Till all that is left is the tree
Only then do we see, it is empty
Without the leaf, its non-identity.