“Death, is just the beginning, right?” Gun Roswell

Is this, truly, the end?

“This will be the death of me”
The low hanging leaf said, to the other one left
“After all, it’s about time, for me, as it is already fall
And, truly, I can no longer stall
The inevitable circle, which is that of life
No matter how hard, I try to put up a fight”

There was no response to the question
As the last of its companion
Was already floating down towards its destination
Jumping in, without, any kind of hesitation

After a moment of contemplation
Somehow, making the question mute in comparison
Then, slowly, gently, the now colourless leaf
Fell onto the waiting ground, without no one to grief
After all, it was the end, of the season
So hanging on, well, there really was no reason

Posted as a challenge, poetry prompt “Death”