The Dance of the Fallen Leaves

The Dance of the Fallen Leaves

When autumn paints the world in gold,

And whispers of the past unfold,

The leaves descend with gentle grace,

A silent dance, a soft embrace.

They flutter down in hues so bright,

A symphony of reds and light,

Each one a story, told in flight,

Of summer’s warmth and fading light.

They dance upon the winds so free,

As if they long to truly see,

The world beyond the branches high,

And touch the endless, open sky.

Beneath the trees, the earth awaits,

A canvas where the time relates,

The seasons change, the years go by,

Yet still the leaves must fall and fly.

They tumble soft, they swirl and spin,

As if they know the dance within,

A fleeting moment, brief and sweet,

A rhythm no one can repeat.

The sky above, so vast, so wide,

Looks down upon the leaf’s last ride,

It sees the end and yet the start,

For from the earth, life will depart.

But every leaf that falls away,

Leaves something new along its way—

A seed of hope, a dream untold,

A mark of time, a story bold.

So let them fall, let them descend,

For in their dance, the world will mend,

And though they fade, their memory stays,

A song that whispers through the days.