The Last Dance

The wind's song changed that afternoon with
a hasty misdirection in flight

Strauss waltzes waned, the requiem sounded
the call of the loon

Snow flakes from the white pillow of snow that
once danced and twirled with grace

Now only march to the roll of a distant drum
and a reoccurring theme

Earlier, a single faint drum beat on what
seemed like air brought him down

Red dancers grace the white floor to the
beat of the waltz

They seemed to flutter in small red puffs and
dips with the wind

He's quiet now-the requiem tilts on the wind
and the drum ends

The snow drifts a snug blanket over the
remaining crimson dancers

Spring rains repeat the waltz, flowers weep briefly
for the Cardinal

The requiem sounds once more for the
snow and the red dancers