Dust

when I was young,
I was a bright, plump leaf,
I clung to my branch,
safe, secure, growing strong.
as a confident, poplar leaf,
I danced with each passing breeze.
every sunny day, I danced;
every gloomy day, I hung
dreaming of dancing.
as the summer passed,
my body grew darker green,
but as the autumn chills came,
I felt my tips grew bright –
yellow, orange, then red.
the winds blew stronger,
I couldn’t raise my head to dance.
I simply clung on,
conserving my energy.
then, one October night,
a wild storm broke.
the whole tree waved and shook,
and I knew it was time
for my last dance…