A Last Dance
How looks my love at dawn
in Spring
the air a festive vase
of hope
to lord each sprout of truth
with praise
and sing what only birds
announce
Her steps become a
garden path
her breath a fragrance
o’er the hills
to dance with future,
present, past
and spin each partner
—time undone
(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2021
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