Dance

Standard

Not summer, but winter.
Not sunset, but dawn.
The sound is lost
but it’s what I see
that matters.

My arms branch out
as I try to grasp
the first wave of light.
My thoughts reach out
as I let that
particular feeling embrace me.
I may not walk, nor move
but I dance, oh how I dance.

I sway to the black and the white
shaking my crown of sharp silver.
I sway to the white and the black
in my slowly fading dance.
And I feel the sounds
getting lost
in a matter of seconds.

So I stand.
In winter, at dawn,
before the world wakes.

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