Sycamore leafFar flung from homeAlone now,Without your kin,Among strangers.Free at last, you roam.Caught, not by binding stemTo the home tree;Caught in a new placeLow in the lowly grasses.Sights are foreign.Life is crowded still.You fluttered before;Fought furiouslyFought free; But you didn't know How to fly.Come rest against The wall, the house, The garden gate'Till you find family again.