The last autumn leaf
Stood lonely on its branch
Pulled by the chill of the wind
It danced on the breeze of fall
Orange and yellowed surface
It crackled from its thin stem
Waiting to leave its sinewed hold
And join its rest on the grass
Breaking free of the bare tree
It floated on the gale whisper
Waiting to fall ever so softly
Into its minute of slow descent
Onto the ochre-hued floor
Crunching on its bed of leaves
It waited, staring at the tree above
Naked and empty without it
Calling out to the wind
It spoke of the coming winter
Rustled by the chill in the air
A quiet song to the branches
It left its place by the boughs
Falling, falling the last autumn leaf
