I love it when dry leaves fall,
Moving swiftly, kissing the floor,
With every dance of the wind,
They move to the rhythm, step by step
Turning on the ground and
When the music stops
They gather together and hold.
I just love it when they fall.
The grass would have shed its skin,
In waiting for the next spring,
The sun shows its presence,
But not much for the season,
And these leaves like birds from a nest,
Spread their petals in flight,
Carried by the hands of the winds,
They land graciously on the ground.
Swift- swift- shift, they sing.
In plain cold I listen.
I watch others in boots and coats
Flashingly taking cover away from the talk of the clouds.
Their feet make a thumping sound,
As if to **** these soft ones,
But graciously they would tuck them in,
And not break at all. Dry as they are!
Some will leave and some remain,
But the tree will never cease to let them fall again!
Written on an autumn. 02 May 2012.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 9:27 AM UTC
I love it when dry leaves fall,
Moving swiftly, kissing the floor,
With every dance of the wind,
They move to the rhythm, step by step
Turning on the ground and
When the music stops
They gather together and hold.
I just love it when they fall.
The grass would have shed its skin,
In waiting for the next spring,
The sun shows its presence,
But not much for the season,
And these leaves like birds from a nest,
Spread their petals in flight,
Carried by the hands of the winds,
They land graciously on the ground.
Swift- swift- shift, they sing.
In plain cold I listen.
I watch others in boots and coats
Flashingly taking cover away from the talk of the clouds.
Their feet make a thumping sound,
As if to **** these soft ones,
But graciously they would tuck them in,
And not break at all. Dry as they are!
Some will leave and some remain,
But the tree will never cease to let them fall again!
Written on an autumn. 02 May 2012.
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