The fragile veil of membraned skin
Now fails so easily by the wind.
So isolated from the pile
Its gale torn frame is worn, reviled.
Not like the rest of hardy husk,
But frail and thin, like sun at dusk.
The heat of sun has not been fair
To this old leaf now worn and bare.
Yet still with life it flitters free
Like first the day it left its tree.
It dances round, flies here and there
Despite the thought that it may tear
Upon a bramble, hook or thorn
And left to wilt deplored, forlorn.
But thoughts like these are cast aside
For now's the time this leaf will ride
Those winds of life to where they pour
Round bends and banks 'til there's no more.