I sit tonight on autumn’s yellow throne,
The world about me falling to the ground.
The end was always something I have known,
No more of those beginnings to be found.

I see the last leaf hanging on a tree.
Although the rest are brown this one is red.
The leaf, it warms my heart to some degree,
This bit of life that would defy the dead.

And in its silent way, the leaf it falls.
It cuts the air around it with the change.
And for a second, can be heard the calls
Of all the other leaves we find so strange.

This is how we must always end the ring.
At peace, for autumn always turns to Spring.