The Last Leaf

Atop a lonely barren hill, within an open field,
weathered, burnt, the clouds descend,
stripped nearly naked, alone, no shield.

Approaching fast, his storm, a horrid rain,
relentless, with no end,
planted firm, no escape, facing the hurricane.

A target for his deadly force, his wind against my tree,
firm, a little bend,
repetition takes its toll, tomorrow may not be.

Soft and gentle, loving, it did once seem,
oh deceptive breeze, my friend,
so isolated now, misguided, oh a fiend.

One by one, to the ground, the last leaves fall,
a cycle, this trend, 
submission, finally you've taken it all.