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Poetry

Prancer

They call her Prancer.

She is a tiny dancer.

A budding romance.

Nothing can break her trance.

She wears a crown

As she twirls in her gown.

Dancing in April showers

Of May flowers.

She spreads her wings.

Spinning through Saturn’s rings.

Mind and body are one

As she heads for the sun.

All of the answers

Lies in the tiny dancer.

Dancing is the key.

Her soul is free.

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by melody.heald13

A writer with a dream. I've been writing since I was a kid. My dream was and still is, to become a published author. Reading and writing are my passions.

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