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We were walking along the chapped concrete while the autumn leaves tumbled through the trees, captured by the wind and imprisoned by its ropes of icy air. Shafts of sunlight pierced the crumbling leather of the cascading patterns as they raced towards the solid ground. They caught in my hair the deep reds blurring against my fierce brown locks. My friend spun around in front of me, sending a flourish of golden shapes into my torso. I spun them back; she fell away with a scream; only to collect a bigger collection and waste them in my direction. Soon the dance began in earnest and we span, ducked and twirled under the falling mass of feathery colours.

It was graceful and surreal, something that I can never forget. There we were, spinning the leaves back into the heavens while we span elegantly around the cleared spaces below our moving feet. The harmony of the two dancers was lost by passers by; only the old couple sat holding hands on the dark wooden bench noticed the meaning of the couples dance. It was a peace that had to be learnt.The trance released its victims and they fell deep into the collected pile of leaves, chests rising gently and eyes fixed on the masters of the tried movements as they showed the two how it was really done. The tranquility remained as the pair rose and tiptoed out of the grassy arena. Passing the couple watching from the park bench, all the characters swapped understanding gazes that spoke of silent knowledge. We carried on our way without again turning back; there was no need.

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