The Last Leaf Poem by ivor or ivor.e hogg

That she was old beyond belief
was obvious for all to see.
Her face was like a wrinkled leaf
The last one clinging to the tree

in defiance of the gales.
Which autumns sends to strip the trees.
But now and then this method fails
and one leaf refuses to release

its hold and stubbornly remains
attached to where it’s always been.
Where once it drank the summer rains
when it was tender young and green.

How old she is she cannot say
nor does she care apparently.
But like the last leaf in her way
intends to cling on stubbornly.

She has outlived her family
all of her friends have long since gone
Accepting philosophically
She is the last surviving one

That when she dies her family tree
will disappear and leave no trace.
It will just simply cease to be
there is no one to take her place.

She is a source of wonderment
to scientists who study her.
She does not care she is content
to accept the support they offer her.

Shes not too old to change her ways
no longer has to search for food.
Which she done for all her days
and she still finds that life is good.

There is no record of her birth
her age is subject of debate.
Which is to her a source of mirth
a joke she can appreciate.

She does not care so why should they.
It does not matter in her eyes
She has survived until today
and will do ' til the day she dies.

The scientist all theorise
on how and why she’s lived so long.
They disagree as each one tries
to prove he’s right the others wrong.

She has her own opinion
but they show little interest.
And will not 'til the chance is gone.
When she has died and gone to rest.

She lived her life in her own way
It was the only way she knew.
Aware that she would die one day
as everybody has to do.

How old she was nobody knew
It does not matter I suppose.
That she was old we know is true
but why she was nobody knows.

11-Mar-09

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