As the wind whispers through the trees,

A lone leaf trembles with ease,

The last of its kind, it falls to the ground,

A symbol of winter's coming round.

Its golden hue, so bright and bold,

Shines like a star, so pure and cold,

The last leaf falling, a sight to see,

A final farewell to summer's glee.

The branches bare, the trees stand tall,

Their limbs etched in a frosty call,

The last leaf falling, a gentle sound,

As winter's chill, all around is found.

The earth below, so crisp and clean,

Awaits the snow, so pure and serene,

The last leaf falling, a final grace,

As winter's icy embrace.

The sky above, so gray and still,

A canvas for the snow to spill,

The last leaf falling, a final hush,

As winter's peace, all hearts do fill.