I saw a green leaf falling
and it looked like a butterfly;
then I saw a butterfly
and it looked like a leaf,
a green one –
so, now, I’m feeling confused.
By the Book (sic)
Bardly Writ
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“I am the last leaf on the tree.”
“I am the last leaf on the tree”
The last leaf on the tree,
that’s me;
the others left home,
forgot about me;
never write, never call –
once the tree was family,
once the tree was all.
I am the
last
leaf on the tree.
“Hello, Little Leaf.” (Please sing this A Capella)
“Hello, Little Leaf.” (Please sing this A Capella)
Hello, little leaf,
Have you lost your way?
Are you far from home,
in the breeze blown away?
Hello, little leaf,
is it you once again?
Or is it your leafy friend?
The Leaf (Revisited)
The Leaf (Revisited)
Oh, Leaf, I wonder where you are,
have you travelled near or far?
Are you just around the bend – like me?
Did you meet another friend – like me?
New Leaf
“Eve?”
“Yes, Adam?”
“Is there something different about you?
“well… yes.”
“Your hair?”
“No, Adam.”
“Your…?”
“I’ll tell you. It’s my fig leaf, it’s a Jabuticaba.”
“Never heard of that.”
“Nor me, until Serpentius showed it to me.”
“In the garden?”
“Yes, the tall tree with long, narrow leaves.”
“Doesn’t sound like any of ours.”
“It’s Brazilian.”
“Oh.”
