Holding on with grip so tight
Not yet ready to take flight
Does not see or care or know
This greenish leaf, a now rare sight.
Not the time, yet, to let go.
Though most have fallen, now, below
Mingling, Rotting, on the ground
Retired from their color-show.
Yet, stubbornness this one has found
Despite the dormancy around
Still green for now, and yet like some,
It too surely will turn brown.
Yet to this change, it will be numb
And cling to where it sprouted from.
And put up a valiant fight.
Until that last moment's come.