I saw my brother leaving.
He turned away from us just like that.
Actually, he wasn't himself lately. For the past few weeks
previous to his leaving, he became someone else - different
from us.
Well, he wasn't the first one to leave of course; however,
he was closer to me than all the others. I'll always
remember the great times we had, playing with the sunrays.
Yet different days have come, and now he's gone.

It all began one morning, we all woke up and found out that
my brother, our brother, had a yellow spot on his head.
After this incident he wasn't one of us anymore.
When the days past, the spot became bigger and soon we
weren't able to tell his original color. It didn't take long
until he left us for good.

Now he's no longer here, he settled in somewhere down
there.
All my brothers would follow his steps, and sooner or later
they will disappear too. I intend to be the last one to go.
I don't want to leave my roots behind.
Someone once told me that it would be better if I went to
seek myself a new family, because mine should fall apart
soon, though I didn't want to listen.

I look around me. My brothers are changing. Their hair color
is changing; they've been dried out. So many different
colors - if they weren't my flesh and blood, I would
probably think it's a marvelous sight.

During the spring we had fun. It was all so nice and green.
Summer was hot. We nearly died, but we managed to survive.
Right now, the autumn is tearing my family apart, and by the
time winter comes, our family tree would be simply empty.