Shoot it if it rhymes

Leaves 

Once I wrote you a love poem - 

a little dark, a little damp, 

a little hairy. 

It was night. 

As the darkness grew, 

it merged with the rain 

and the bark and the leaves 

and slowly became still, silent. 

In the morning, there was only you, 

a monsoon sky, 

and a tree without leaves.