In the gusts of wind small children dance
The leaves, though brown,seem lively as they’re blown
These ancient leaves seem merry as they prance.
Falling down and bouncing , happy chance
It is an act more dangerous to the old
In the gusts of wind our children dance
With such leaves, a cat may find romance
They tickle him in places far too bold
The long dead leaves seem merry as they prance.
This cat and I now share sardonic glance.
His eyes are golden with a hint of cold
In the gusts of wind , all children dance
Though we don”t worship God, what is the chance
That love itself descended from that throne?
The lusty leaves seem merry as they mince
Here I stand ,by sadness overthrown
Till some human calls to take me home
Yet in this gale, the children can’t but dance
Dynamic leaves show passion and entrance
