One leaf, hung by a single thread,
Will cling to it's branch
And it's last tiny breath.

By it's colour, seconds before it fell,
It would swing in the wind
To the stories it tells.

One heart, left to fend
In an unfeeling world;
To find passion and love
In a thorn-covered rose.

But, alas, all is failed
On this cold, frosty morn;
While this heart lies
Bleeding and scorned...