The Last Dance

Winter's arrival

One shy brown leaf
dances like a flower girl
above a salted street, the final notes
of Autumn' s hymn fading
into heavy boots and shovels
scratching the cold ground.
She quivers, and with a sigh
she suicides from her dead arm
and spirals softly down
into the white sea
to be silently buried.

This is the last of it.
This is the end
of easy mornings and clean roads.
We will forget
the grass blades under our toes
for they have certainly forgotten us.
And we will lose
our sense of touch or at least the sight
of skin on skin
and miniskirts and sweat.
Lovers will roll
themselves so tightly that not even
their partners can unwind them,
and they will sleep in warm silence
while their radiator growls
from a distance.

It isn't quick.
They say the death is slow
as leaves, dancing like wildfire
and then, one by one,
spiraling softly down
into the white sea.

Reviews

[Emily B]

i am here, i am reading, i haven't forsaken you

your art is top shelf here and always

[Richard Layne]

I really like the third verse. It repeats but adds something new to the poem and it's such a nice image. Well done sir

[tressa]

The leaves fall so delicately and gently, and it all seems to fall....