A Sad Pirouette


A Sad Pirouette

The trees are heavy with dew

In the glacial morning sun

They weep icy tears

Falling one by one

As if chosen

Each playing a part

In a growing serenade

A ghostly mist

Soft as a whisper

Dances slowly

A sad pirouette

Like a lover

Abandoned

To the winter winds

© Ann Bagnall  2015.

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