The Last DanceA Poem by p.kuhlWinter'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. © 2013 p.kuhl |
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3 Reviews Added on December 18, 2013 Last Updated on December 18, 2013 Authorp.kuhlBloomington, INAboutMy name is Pierce, and I am a 23 year old English major at Indiana University. "How easily I connect to you. You're always everything at once, somehow. You're shy and open, sweet and cold, curious .. more..Writing
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