Leaves

I read it in books;
   I see it in life.
Like leaves upon fall,
   Dreams within a tree.
Yet, many are proud
   To rake up the ground.

And I read it in books,
   But see it in life too,
How people always walk,
   Their eyes aimed at the ground.
Yet, the irony works,
   To make me smile the same.

Because we sigh at what we read,
   And cry for what we see the most,
For we all think about those dreams,
   The ones that just could never be.
Yet we see it all on those leaves
   The ones that flow on that one tree.

Still, I see it in life
   And sometimes inside books.
We fail to realize
  That we look down too much.
Yet, we all seem to think
  That we look up too much.

So I wonder in the end,
   Which of them matters the most.
Is it the dreams up above
   Or is it the dreams below?
Yet, the answer lies in life,
   More often than in a book.