The Last Dance
a poem
It was the last time she was to dance
Before her feet turned to clay
So she held him close to her breast
Exchanging his heartbeat with her own
Feeling his breath on her cheek.
Touching the tips of his shoes
Lightly on hers as they
Waltzed with eyes melting eyes
And souls entwining with the
Melody of notes that drifted
Continuing after the music stopped
Not wanting the dance to end.
