Niche and Ordinary

I imagine that the texture of each leaf is similar and different, and as the years go by, it will be blown away by the wind for the tree to absorb and grow thicker leaves next year. And she was more like a ball of catkins floating in the wind. She was wrapped tightly when she was free and loose, watching the leaves of the leaves fall and complete their mission. Perhaps, it had been confused as to why it was so useless, and had never received its own meaning. But now, looking at the velvet in the sky, lifted high by the wind, it became clear that there were not only leaves on the trees, but also inconspicuous velvet.