Allie612
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Life without love is like a tree
~Without blossom and fruit.
~ by Khalil Gibran~


THE FINAL DANCE
Detachment moves and climbs the stairs
It's warm and safe, but sometimes bare
It covers gently, softly, neat
The one sure way, though bitter sweet
The other ways, of course they're there
No longer time to sit and stare
No longer time to laugh and sing
For some it is a painful thing
The final step, the final glance,
The last and gentle final dance
The sweet and certain times of past
The memories how they went so fast
So what is there to ask, you say?
What deeds were done, a price to pay
Will these acts make certain for
A heaven sent, a golden door
The question hangs, so carefully
It's clearly there, for all to see
So now I ask, and what of you
What of your deeds, for now it's due.
Written for those who are dear and so very precious to me, and I write this to make some sense of it all. I'm not sure that I achieve it, but I'm trying to find a way. If you are asked the question, what did you do with your life, what would you say? Would you stumble and fall and try to hide?