The Dance

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The snow slowly drifts down,
Like tinsel on a Christmas tree.
The sky slowly darkens.
The moon slowly appears,
Like a bird between a cloud.
The light bouncing off the ground,
Dancing, floating freely and
Illuminates all ,makes no sound.
The trees dance,
A graceful ballerina slowly
capturing an audience,
A slow smooth dance, of courage,
Of pain, Of hopes and dreams-that,
May come true if only they believe.
The snow,
The cloud, the moon,
All make one snowy night,
Stand out to all the rest.
The wind howls outside the door,
That recalls of life’s pain and sorrow,
Of the dreams of the trees,
And the hopes that lie behind.





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