Defy, decay

I often wonder

About the last leaf on the tree

And whether there is a leaf

That refuses to wither

To decay, to die

To remain as soft

Lissome, and lithe

As the day it first grew

On the tree

And not just a memory

Of a memory

That we hold

In a photograph

Of a love

In the first bloom of spring

And days of light

And sun without end

Long lost

But not forgotten

Just distanced

By time, by life

That we can never touch

But refuses to die

Like that leaf

On the tree

 

Nicholas O’Farrell 2022