Bird's Eye

Last Leaf Remaining

Photograph by Olan Smith

Last Leaf Remaining

©12-20-2015, Olan L. Smith, edited: 12-20-2024

(1st publication: Facebook, Dec. 20th, 2015)

Leaves falling from a tree they pass by him,

Cousins, friends, and neighbors, and he watches them twirl down from his tree.

Until the carpet the ground beneath. He hangs on in the cold breeze

Waiting his turn. The old man picks up a book and squints, or positions.

His loupe in front of it reading one word at a time in complacency,

A constant reminder of aging. The old man rises from his rocking chair, and they listen

As his bones crack, pop; his crackly voice utters swear words, "Damn! Fires-a-blazon,

I did not ask for this." Only survivors are allowed to curse their pain.

A multitude of friends die, turned to so much mulch for fertilizer.

With friends and family gone, what is there to live for? Who desires coddling

An old man. Cane in hand, he slowly makes my way, shuffling

His feet slow down the youthful ones who hang on to his every

Word for one bit of wisdom to spill from his mouth,

And they jot it down in hopes of gaining enlightenment that will not come. Another chum

Schemes to steal his wealth, but he has none. his treasure is his mind close to his bosom,

His words were written down for the ages. Come youth know that understanding.

Wisdom is earned by simply surviving. No soul becomes wise by wishful thinking.

You cannot skim the surface, leaf through pages of life, and hope wisdom

Wears off, or think by osmosis it will transfer. Wait your turn, his emblem

Is life. Hang on for all you are worth, and it will come.

(A.N. I've searched Wattpad and the internet to see if this had been published here as well but was unable to find it. If you do happen to run across this poem elsewhere, let me know, and I will update it as well. Sometimes, I only publish poems on Facebook for one reason or another, but that is rare, so "Last Leaf Remaining" may indeed exist here within my vast collections of poems. Thank you.)