The Last Dance Poem by Don Dickenson
The Last Dance
A late brown leaf, flutters from on high,
Disturbed at last,
its tenuous hold,
Released from nature’s tie.
With curves and turns,
and wind blown swirls.
So purposeful, so full of grace
yet guided down by chance,
Now free from every earthly bond,
it floats, the last great dance
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5/8/2024 6:49:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
