To invisible music she dances & sways,
Her tiny wee feet never making a sound,
Step by step to the soundless soft tunes,
Where, only she hears the melodies played.
She laughs in cold breezes, as silent as
sleet,
Where smiles are painted, in diaphanous
air,
Where icy-cold raindrops, kiss her icicled
lips,
Where solitary whispers, shoe tiny small
feet.
She is garbed gently, in mantled glossed
sighs,
Draping white shoulders, in cape of furred
winds,
And nobody ever sees her silent & soft
movings,
As she drifts & sways, then gently
& softly, she dies.
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