Struggled through ages of toil,
withered by seasons' change,
a solitary leaf on the treacherous path
in restless peace lay motionless.

Anterior reflected a tumultuous past,
of sorrows disguised in veil of mirth,
a crippling sensation tortured the innards
as particles bombarded in disarray.

Trampled upon intermittently,
the colour had lost its character,
moths crawled all over the skin
while it remained paralyzed with terror.

Memories were the only retreat,
when the cold winds had blown with youthful exuberance,
the storm had groaned with vicious ferocity,
raindrops had nourished each of its cell.

A gust of wind tossed it up in the air,
a ray of hope flickered within
to rise above the physical inhibitions
and reconcile with fellow leaves on the tree.

The moment passed and hope vanished,
it fell with a thunderous thud,
the agonizing cry which no one heard
as it crumpled under heavy footsteps,
Silently awaiting the end.