doorstep leaf

i found a leaf on my doorstep one that doesnt grow around here. i didnt notice it until it stuck to my boot. i peeled it off and examined it, green striking a sharp contrast the the autumnal bronzes and decaying reds and oranges around me. in neat calligraphic handwriting pyrography burned onto the leaf read Happy birthday --yours truly with the perfection of a steady hand to perhaps a magnifying glass. i smiled and tucked the leaf into my breastpocket careful as so it wouldnt tear. i paused in my tracks. had i told you when my birthday was? i fully had no recollection and i am always very happy to thus i knew i never had and yet you knew. you called yourself yours and it was true you were my personal enigma.