Wednesday, January 11, 2023

Crane Dance

She goes, and it is past,
And she is lost to sight.

All quietly she goes,
But dropping next a tear.

But she knows she must not stay.
She lingers, loth to go.

She slowly softly goes.
She knows her time is done.

As slowly she departs,
She turns for one more look,

And she is no more there,
Which tells the year is dead.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.