I like to
watch the leaves
doing the dance.
They have been
doing it for years and years
without wearing out.
The same old dance
they do
which is not synchronized,
where leaves don't copy each other
but sway on their own rhythm
when the same old music
of the wind plays
creating a beautiful experience.
The kind of dance
our souls do,
mind it, not the prententious bodies,
on the music of our hearts
creating a beautiful experience.
That old dance, that old music.
I don't see much of it now
from the glass windows
of the concrete buildings
filled with air
of desires,
and dreams
which are to be realized yet.
I miss the old dance of the leaves.
I miss the old dance of the souls.
I wish they listen to the music
as it hasn't stopped playing yet.