Dancing to the Beat of the Music

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    Dancing to the Beat of the Music

    They watched her dance,
    Across the floor.
    Never missing a beat,
    To the music score.

    Her hair was shining,
    Below the lights.
    Watching her move,
    Was a pure delight.

    She dipped and turned,
    To every beat.
    She was light as a feather,
    On her feet.

    To watch her dance,
    Was a pure delight.
    Like a flock of birds,
    On a moon lit night.

    She moved through the air,
    With the greatest of ease.
    The crowd was clapping,
    They were very pleased.

    So as the dance,
    Came to a close.
    She ended the show,
    On her toes.

    The crowd clapped,
    They wanted more.
    She gave them a show,
    To the music score.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    warehra’s Poems (1)

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