THE DANCE OF THE LEAVES
Can you describe in a simple way
The sorrowful dance of some goodbyes,
Like leaves falling on a windy day -
No bloodshed yet many a leaf cries.
The trees bend to grab their flying shawls
As leaves struggle to reach out their hands;
Our bodies are but dwelling of souls,
The flesh is nought but a house of sand.
The lofty hills and the lowliest plain
Keep watch o'er every fallen leaf
Where the naked trees stand with no shame
No will to bend, not a soul to live.
Then comes the wind pipes in its hands,
The fallen rises for their last dance -
Yellowed or blanched, or crimson like wine;
Rich in lament, yet their dance divine.