The Last Leaf

When autumn comes on with her deep commands, The trees shed gently, every leaf in sight; They find their resting-place on sun-kissed sands, To mingle with the twilight, soft and slight.

But one last leaf, clings stubborn to the bough, It sways with every breeze that whips the air; A golden token of the years endowed, It whispers tales of patience, love, and care.

What strength it takes to hold on, when the cold Calls it to flee and dance upon the ground; Yet in its strength, a silent truth unrolled, That even in the fading, hope is found.

So let me learn from all this change I see, And grow in grace, like that last leaf on the tree.

• Constance Fennell