One final trace of color clings to branches, gnarled and bare.

The winter whispers, drawing near; one lonely leaf still lingers there.

The crown is gone, the hues have fled, the brilliance now is past.

A cold breeze calls it forth to dance, and drift to sleep at last.

Its garment long has gleamed with gold, steeped in radiant days.

It listened to the countless songs the wandering wind conveys.

Through empty branches drifts the breeze, and breaks the hush apart.

It carries stories from afar ... the leaf listens quietly with an eager heart.

So much is left to see, so much remains to know.

The leaf still longs to stay, it’s not prepared to go.

Yet we feel the days go by, and see them come with every dawn.

As long as life is living, the wheel keeps turning on.

For change is woven through it all ...

Nothing's here to stay.

Yes, even the last autumn leaf must fall ...

And new life may find its way.

Lonely grew the soul; for every friend has gone away,

Now only silence dwells where once warm laughter used to stay.

Someone will be the first, another will be the last.

Such is the way of life ... the glow of youth is fading fast.

Down at the tree’s foot, the leaf sees what’s lying there,

A bed of gold and brown awaits, prepared with tender care.

Still weary it is not; it beholds the horizon shining bright,

And as the red sun falls, it wonders: shall I see again its light?

“Grant me but this moment more; tomorrow I’ll give way.”

So the leaf whispers, clinging tight ... it cannot fall today.

Yet we feel the days go by, and see them come with every dawn.

As long as life is living, the wheel keeps turning on.

For change is woven through it all ...

Nothing's here to stay.

Yes, even the last autumn leaf must fall ...

And new life may find its way.

The leaf has spent its final strength, it can grasp no more.

It loses hold, it drifts away, lets all its burdens soar.

The wind slows its descent and guides it as it flies.

It settles down, then gazes up, with calmness in its eyes.

It finds its way to roots and soil, the womb of Mother Earth,

To rise again within the wheel that grants all beings birth.

The listener may question: “What meaning could this hold?

Why should I care for falling leaves? This story leaves me cold.”

Even autumn’s final leaf has earned its song to sing,

To warm the hearts of those who find the joy that little things can bring.

Our time is fleeting too, the present turns to past.

Cherish every moment, for one must be...

yes, one will be ...

the last.

Yet we feel the days go by, and see them come with every dawn.

As long as life is living, the wheel keeps turning on.

For change is woven through it all ...

Nothing's here to stay.

Yes, even the last autumn leaf must fall...

And new life may find its way.

... new life will find its way ...

And we,

We shall meet again ...