As she danced with abandon

In the cemetery moonlight

Moonbeams slid across

Her flaxen ringlets

And paused eerily

On her translucent costume.

Was she a specter,

Or maybe a child

Who succumbed to smallpox?

Then moonbeams were everywhere

As more children in white

Joined her in the dance

Circling and singing

And hopping tombstones.

The joyous dance

Of the moonbeam children

Went on for hours

With giggles floating

On the night breeze

Into the nearby neighborhoods

Reminding all who would listen

That a child is only a child

For such a short time.

By: Karen Joyce

2.15.18