The Last Leaf
© Alec Martin
Watching the last few leaves cling to a neighbour's tree during an autumn storm.
There it hung
There it clung,
A small parcel of gold,
The wind blew stronger
Leaf could hold no longer,
It was worn and old.
Then, as if with a sigh
As the clouds scudded by
Leaf let go and soared;
The capricious wind stopped
Leaf halted, then flopped.
The wind, in victory, roared.
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