It breaks away and
falls from my wrist,
a leaf in autumn.
Not a fall from grace but a 
graceful fall,
carried by water to the 
floor of the earth
where it lays to rest
in salt and serenity.
Plucked from the 
path less trodden
and then weaved and wound
until unrecognisable.
A metaphor for human nature.
I wore it as I wear 
my skin
and now it sits
at the bottom of the ocean
waiting to be worn by the 
Earth again

thoughts.

I spent a long time trying to think of a title for this poem, but I decided after much deliberation to leave it untitled (#5 meaning the fifth poem on here). No single word or phrase could capture what I could have been referring to; the circle of life and death, nature, loss etc.

It appears to be, and truthfully did begin, as a very literal piece. I described losing a gift in the ocean, but as I have worked with this poem over the last couple months and thought about the meaning, I began to enjoy how much it said through so little. For this reason, I will not say too much about the meaning. What to one could be a poem about a bracelet that fell off a wrist while swimming, could be a tale of the inevitability of change, or a comment on nature and its cruel beauty to another. I believe it is both none and all of these things simultaneously, which is why I love poetry so much, I suppose.