Last Leaf

On a gloomy autumn morning, while a blanket of clouds shrouded the sun, the last leaf fell from a deep-rooted maple; deteriorating in its weary senescence. With the peaceful egress of the lone leaf, it seemed as if the remaining happiness was swept away.

The leaf spiraled gracefully through the air, descending towards the fog-layered earth. The burning orange hue, dull in the gray sky, was immersed in a looming haze. I stood still, deafened by the incessant silence, surrounded by a world of gray. I looked up towards the dreary sky; monotonous in its existence. As I stared, the clouds grew darker, the air grew colder, and the rain began to fall.

I was engulfed beneath a sea of clouds.