What Once Was

I wrote this as I was sitting outside by my birch tree.

Sometimes,
when I sit outside,
I can hear the wind rustling through the leaves,
the whisper of its many voices against the branches
of my old birch tree. 
I watch as its hands lift them high,
playing with them,
agile fingers moving in a graceful dance the green leaves echo.
Swaying, swishing left and right like a fairy flitting through the sky,
a beauteous sight to behold. 

Then they fall still,
the cease of movement silencing the voices of wind,
all that is left is the gentle swaying of twigs,
still dancing the wind's dance,
floating in the pattern of the breeze,
unwilling to let go of what once was. 

Author's Note

What did you think? Any thoughts? Anything I can change/improve?

Reviews

[Elgato]

This image is beautiful. It captures a part of life, of how we experience beautiful things and yearn for their passing. Thank you for sharing.

[Isabelle Faye]

You're welcome, it was sort of a random musing I had that I wanted to write down.

[Michaela]

Wow...you have captured how I often feel. I can imagine myself in my favorite spot now... O.o I gotta go... :)

[Isabelle Faye]

Thanks

[Legolas]

Great job as usual. I love the image I get from reading this. I can also kind of see the message behind it.

[Isabelle Faye]

Thanks.