Edward lived every day
as if it was his first,
or his last;
green of experience in his youth
he learnt all that could
until he became a wizened old fellow.
One day,
whilst wearing a coat of brown, trimmed with a motley yellow,
he fell to the ground,
and just lay there.
Is it you,
or is it me,
who’s going to be
the last leaf on the tree?
Every other leaf has fallen,
we’ve been left behind;
and when one more leaf
has heard its calling;
there will only be
one last solitary leaf
upon the tree to find.
Today, I was almost concussed by a flying leaf;
it came at me so fast,
it was almost beyond belief;
but, by my ducking, it missed me,
as it passed it almost kissed me,
then it went on its way,
And that is the story of how
I was almost concussed by a flying leaf,
today.
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.
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,
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?
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?
 | Words from a Lentil… on ‘Bee Longing’ & ‘Bee … |
 | Lucy on ‘Bee Longing’ & ‘Bee … |
 | cagedunn on And then there were one |
| Words from a Lentil… on My son, Noah. |
| Lucy on My son, Noah. |
