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      December 18, 2015An Hour to DanceVirginia Hamilton Adair

      For a while we whirled
      over the meadows of music
      our sadness put away in purses
      stuffed into old shoes or shawls
      the children we never were
      from cellars and closets
      attics and faded snapshots
      came out to leap for love
      on the edge of an ocean of tears
      like a royal flotilla
      Alice’s menagerie swam by
      no tale is endless
      the rabbit opened his watch
      muttering late, late
      time to grow
      old

      from Issue #7 - Summer 1997