The Last Elf

He stood alone in the woods that spring
When he heard the faint voices from the west
As they were borne upon a gentle breeze which
Caressed his face and tugged his hair.
But he ignored them
For the call of the springtime woods was stronger
With the reawakened blossoms around him
Now that winter's icy grip had been broken.

He stood in a tall tree overlooking the woods
When he heard the same voices again now stronger
As spring gave way to summer
And the woods were in their leafy prime.
This time he was mildly interested
As they talked of the long ago war
Involving a ring and a long bitter struggle which
Ended in triumph for goodness and their sad departure.

He stood beside a small brook in the woods that fall
When he heard the same voices again now urgent
While the woods laid aside her coat of green for
Another one of vibrant reds and golds.
Now he listened more attentively
As they spoke his name and pleaded for him
To put aside his love of the woods and join his
Kindred in the west ere time grew late.

He stood alone on the western shore that winter
When he heard the same voices again now faint
As the snowy cold once more reclaimed the land
Covering everything in a blanket of white.
Over the crashing surf he strained to hear for the last time
Their sad voices as they now lamented
That he did not in time put aside his love of the woods
And now must remain the last Elf on earth.

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