An Ageing Leaf Poem by Mira Midha

I hear soft laments amongst ageing leaves,
Whisperings carried by an autumn breeze,
They say that we had lived our day,
Time to bid farewell and on our way.

Though I feel my limbs be weak,
Own sound of rustle do not speak,
I differ with their way of thought,
My time is over naught.

For I still have my branch in cling,
Thwart the pull each gust that brings,
My stem in strong, a bond of might,
I have the will to fight.

How can I let go, ‘tis time to live,
I gave you wealth, you have to give,
This my plead to a tree that bore
Me from a tiny bud to more.

The mighty one stood stoic unshaken,
Whilst lone leaf clung unbroken,
I yet have another season to see,
The ground shall not take me.

Let me brittle and turn to brown,
I shall not ever fall down,
Till all the twitters leave, flee their wings,
And O mighty one will hear no sing.

On your bough shall arm no nest,
Nor should seek a feathered rest,
And I shall only think to go
When winter clothes you in wraps of snow,
Only then shall I of hold be free,
For no leaf dared to fight its destiny.

The stalwart tree took pride in this his friend,
Wrapped reaching supple branch in fend,
All nature's ire, it was in vain,
You shall not be on ground in lain.

Thus ageing leaf played the wind in sway,
Had one more and another day,
Alas in loneliness asked the tree to shed,
And lay it down on winter's bed.

Lone leaf it danced with the frost and flakes,
Quivered in squall, in storm did shake,
White clouds they swam the clear blue sky,
And migrating bird in squawking cry,
The air in smell of new born earth,
This ground hath turned to birth.

In that silence of but one sound,
A grip was lost and to the ground,
Old leaf laid in rest to lie
'Tis then the spring sun did sigh.