We are all dancers,
Moving to the rhythm of our own hearts.
Some of us dance with grace and ease,
While others stumble and fall.
But we all keep dancing,
For the dance of life is never over.
The dance of life is a mystery,
But it is a mystery that we are all a part of.
So let us dance with joy and abandon,
And make the most of this beautiful dance.
The music is playing, and the floor is ours.
Let us dance with all our hearts.
Let us dance for joy, and let us dance for love.
Let us dance for life.
We are all dancers, and we are all in this together.
So let us dance, and let us make the most of it.
The dance of life is a beautiful thing,
And it is a dance that we should never take for granted.
So let us dance with joy, and let us dance with gratitude.
Let us dance for the gift of life, and let us dance for all that we have.
We are all dancers, and we are all in this together.
So let us dance, and let us make the most of it.
About the Creator
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Love the rhythm of this poem :)