In the beautiful season of spring,
Tiny little leaves sprouted on a tree.
The birds perched on the canopy and sang,
In the beautiful season of spring.
‘Welcome summer, welcome sunshine!’
The leaves gleefully hummed.
As they were on the tree, safe and sound,
Sticking to the branches like gum.
In the harsh monsoon,
On the tree sat many a lark.
The leaves were scared of the stormy wind,
So they clung tightly on to the bark.
In the cold autumn, the wind said,
‘Dear leaves, you are very old.
It’s time for your leaving party.
So grow dresses that will make you shine like gold.’
So the leaves set to work,
What beautiful dresses they grew!
When they were done, they let go off the branch,
And before they fell, they flew.
In the winter, the leaves died.
Their grave was the snow.
Why aren’t the graves there in the summer?
That’s a secret, nobody knows.
There came the spring again,
When the sun melted the snow.
A baby groundhog told the trees.
‘Where are your leaves? I don’t know!’