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The Dance Teacherby Janet Reidwhere sweet roses and lilacs bloom, through windows thrown open wide from a pastel painted room. Antique lace hangs like silk on the windows, a fan circles silent above, and each tune that fills the air has been specially chosen for love. Inside the small room, she dances to the sounds of Chopin and Strauss with morning sun kissing her hair, as it slips through the trees to her house. While the sweet scent of flowers afloat on the breeze lazily fingers the curtains, she glides 'round the room with ease. Men come and men go, and she greets every one with always the brightest of smiles then they dance till the music is done. And they say that she floats like an angel, as if she has gossamer wings, with her feet not touching the floor while ever so softly she sings. She sings of a long ago lover who slipped through her past like the dew with her heart in his hands as he tearfully bade her adieu. She dreams of his love as she waltzes with each of the visiting men, for she's certain some day she will dance with him, in the garden again. |
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