the is the last dance

the butterfly rests
in its forever sleep
on the pin.

the old hall smell
has seeped into me.

and the dances have gone
the music has stopped,
we wound down the years,
like an old grandfather clock.

the stage in silent,
a hush sinks and stifles
the air, that is thick,
cold, and bereft.

I cannot make it last,
this will be the last dance,
when all has gone that was meant to last
this will be the last dance.

when all the grains of sand
have dropped,
deep thinking never
helped me a lot,

so i gather up the things i need,
the things that mean anything to me,
say farewell with a casual glance,
and take pleasure in this
the last dance,

taking pleasure in this
the last dance.

the is the last dance

uncleblack

Joined February 2010

  • Artwork Comments 4

Artwork Comments

  • jainiemac
  • uncleblack
  • Donna19
  • Beautifuldreamer
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