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Conrad Geller

Dancing

I could never bear to see her dancing.
The very air exhales while she is dancing.

Raindrops wander down a darkened window.
No mind, no meaning, still, it looks like dancing.

Weeping awake is not the same as dreaming.
A snowflake’s swirl is not the same as dancing.

Tonight the liquid moonlight eddies, flows.
Somewhere, I imagine, she is dancing.

Conrad waits. What else is there to do?
Love is grace, and grace is only dancing.

About larrygates

Web developer of Ghazal Page. Sometime pseudonymous ghazalkar.

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