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
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