xxxiii. LEST WE BE DEAD

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And so we waltz,
to the rhapsody of our love.

Whilst the stars peer upon us,
watching from above.

Upon the eyes of the birds,
and the whispers of the herds.

The claws of the eagle,
in your beauty so illegal.

The clinking of our laughter,
for which applause follows after.

As synchrony dwindles in our feet,
whilst we succumb towards midnight's heat.

For our beloved audience consists,
of much empty a willowed seat.

And as a great man once said,
"let the music dance as we play."

So play on;
dear violins and pianos,
lest we be dead before we're done.

Poesy of EloquenceWhere stories live. Discover now