The Last Leaf


Way up,

On a high branch,

Hangs the last leaf,



Clinging onto a dried branch,

Spring’s last hope,

As autumn is strewn on the ground,

A prediction to an end,

Of flowery ornaments ,

Of blossoms,

Of beauty,

Swaying on a melancholy cold tune,

Wind sealing its fate,

Falling upon dead grass,

To be blown away,

Abandoning its beloved tree,

Withdrawing from all rights to nature,

To wither away,

To vanish.

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