The Last Leaf

A straggler hanging
from its naked limbs, golden and brown,
like a scab, stubborn as they are.

It's sad in a sense,
watching you
staring down at your brothers and sisters,
fighting its selfish embrace
that every day, every second
threatens you, taunting.

When at last you are torn away
for that long,
last, fateful journey.

Almost mockingly
does it throw you,
sweeping and thrashing as you plunder.

But it is then,
in that moment, I see
that you are beautiful.

The dawns light twisting around you
as you flutter, the morning dew
making you sparkle in the sun's ray,
as you twirl and sway.

When they ask, it will not be I that said you fell.
For I will tell them,
I saw you dance.