She was alone, clinging tightly to the branch of hope.

The others had given in, blown away by the wind, but she resisted.

The wind continually rushed at her like a charging bull.

That bull seemed to have one goal,

To knock her down into the depths below.

She was losing heart.

Her strength was weakening, her hope was waning.

She was slowly losing her grip.

She was slipping.

“No! I must hold on,” she thought.

“I cannot give in!”

The next gust of wind blew, even more powerful than the rest,

With renewed strength, she clung to that hope with all her might.

It was not enough.

The last Autumn leaf drifted slowly into the leaf-filled yard,

And blended in with the rest.