A Last Dance Poem by Victoria Gawler

Every year the wind blows
The leaves fall and rustle
As gusts chase them, whirling
Across the road.

Its their last little dance
Their last chance
To gather in gossiping gangs
Before they are swept away
Buried in the soil
Or soaked in the river.

Why don't we get a last dance?
A chance at the end of life
To run and fade together
Before our particles
Diffuse into the earth
And float away in the air?

23rd October 2018