One branch of the oak reached high above the others and stretched far out over the meadow. Two leaves clung to its very tip.
"It isn’t the way it used to be," said one leaf to the other.
"No," the other leaf answered. "So many of us have fallen tonight we’re almost the only ones left on our branch."
Can it be true," said the first leaf, "can it really be true, that others come to take our places when we’re gone and after them still others, and more and more?"
"It is really true," whispered the second leaf. "We can’t even begin to imagine it, it’s beyond our powers."
"What happens to us when we have fallen?"
"We sink down..."
"What is under us?"
The first leaf answered, "I don’t know, some say one thing, some another, but nobody knows."
The second leaf asked, "Do we feel anything, do we know anything about ourselves when we’re down there?"
The first leaf answered, "Who knows? Not one of all those down there has ever come back to tell us about it."
This passage if from what my grandmother called "The Leaf Chapter" in Bambi by Felix Salten. You can read the entire passage from a post on What's It Like on the Inside .