(Inspired by a short story by O. Henry)

In New York on a pleasant summer day of yore

Two young girls set up a studio in an apartment on second floor 

Jade and Deaven were commercial artists of some repute

Their work was well received and they were successful in their pursuit

Come winter and a savage disease ravaged the city

Mr. Pneumonia was ruling the roost in entirety

Picking its victim with vengeance to everyone’s chagrin

And sure enough, at the girls’ abode, made a cruel entry within

Jade lay in bed with fever and cough and fatigue

She felt really bad, her weakness was in another league  

Her chances to make it was one in ten, the doctor said

But if she has something to live for, it was one out of five instead

She was eager to make a painting of Central Park, Deaven said

The doctor said that won’t work at this moment, shaking his head

‘Doesn’t she have an interest in a man?’

‘None whatsoever!’ said Deaven ‘and she has no future plan!’

So Jade’s health went from bad to worse

She would stare all day out of the window

Looking at an old ivy vine tree on the next apartment’s wall, quite near

Tears would flow from her eyes as she gazed outside

One day on hearing her count in reverse, alarmed was Deaven

‘Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven’

Deaven rushed to her bed and demanded

‘Oh dear Jade, what are you up to,’ she commanded

Jade said the ivy tree had hundreds of leaves some days ago

Now only a few were left on the branches to go

‘When the last leaf falls from the tree this winter, it will be a cue

For me it is time at last to go too!’

Deaven said, ‘Forget the ivy tree, dear

Take this broth here and your weakness will disappear’

Jade just kept on gazing through the window

Counting the falling of the leaves below

Anxious, Deaven went upstairs to consult her friend

Old Mr Dave Brighton, to help understand the problem and comprehend

Dave was an artist himself, waiting he was with a blank canvas for forty years

To complete a long pending masterpiece to get the cheers!

Dave came downstairs and saw Jade in her state

She lay there white as a statue sedate

He looked at the ivy tree and saw only two leaves clinging

Soon another dropped and left was only one swinging

Dave said ‘Nonsense, what has falling leaves to do with Jade?!’ 

Deaven saw tears in Jade’s eye, she drew down the shade 

Upto the window sill, ”Close your eyes, dear, you just stop gazing outside’

Dave went away, furrowing his eyebrows with pain amplified

It was dark outside and fiercely blowing was the gale

Surely, Jade thought, the last leaf would fall tonight, being very frail

However, at dawn one leaf was still hanging for life dear 

Jade thought my time to depart has not come yet, it was clear

She felt emotionally and physically cured

Eagerly drank the broth which Deaven had poured

She gained strength, even the doctor was surprised

She glanced outside, the lone leaf was still intact, she realised

In a couple of days, they got the bad news Dave Brighton passed away, friends got the blues

Doctor said his clothes were drenched, made one madder

People saw lying outside brushes, paint box and a ladder

Died of pneumonia due to exposure to extreme cold

He had worked ceaselessly overnight, all told

To paint on the wall the last ivy leaf which had fallen below

Deaven realized that Dave had after all created a masterpiece, lo!