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Poets's Dance

(Finding a very old book of poetry on a dusty bookshelf)

The cover opens, the pages turn, a book that rested high

The poets wake and one by one, they dance before my eye

Their heaven's not a place or time, but just another soul

To share the dance of hope and grief, oh, how love takes its toll

The ink, the page, the joyous phrase, the beauty and the beat

With steps in time to nature's rhyme, they dance with lettered feet

They take my hand and lead me on, it's they who know the way

These unsealed lips have kissed the past and have so much to say

Their echoes ring throughout the hall, with spins from page to page

Each poet shares the dance of time, then exits from the stage

But far from gone, their spirits last, and soon will join the next

Then hand in hand the dance will grow, this ballroom of the text

The heaven's saved the depths of time, they lingered in the air

'Til winds of truth blew poets near, and trusted to their care

The secret dance of souls gone by, with steps we'd all forsake

Had love and joy not made demands, it's these that we must take

The night draws on and soon of course, the cover must be sealed

Like a coffin lid that once had hid these poets since revealed

Though on these faces laid to rest, I thought I sensed a smile

Perhaps this time has been just fine, if only for a while

The cover falls and once again they're hoisted to their grave

But rot they won't, for nature yields, her secret theirs to save

'Til some fair soul, again may pass, perhaps like me, by chance

And come across this treasured past, still longing for a dance

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