Funereal Waltz: Mourning the Words' Demise
by Yasmin Hemmat
In the hushed air, a waltz begins to unfold,
A solemn melody, mournful and cold.
The dancers step lightly, with heavy hearts,
As words lament the demise, their graceful parts.
In the ballroom of sorrow, where shadows sway,
The floor is adorned with petals of gray.
Each step echoes softly, a death knell's toll,
As the dancers mourn the loss of words' soul.
Their elegy resonates through the room,
For language once vibrant, now shrouded in gloom.
The verses weep gently, their meanings untold,
As the waltz carries on, a tale to behold.
The symphony of grief in each whispered breath,
As the dancers glide, embracing their death.
Their movements convey what words cannot say,
In the funereal waltz, they find solace and sway.
The rhythm of sorrow, a delicate embrace,
As the dancers twirl, draped in mourning lace.
With every spin and turn, they honor and dwell,
On the death knell's toll, where words bid farewell.
In this melancholic dance, a requiem's verse,
Words merge with the music, immersed in the hearse.
The funereal waltz weaves a tapestry of pain,
A tribute to the words lost, never to regain.
So, as the dancers dance and mourn, with each solemn refrain,
The death knell tolls, and their elegy remains.
A solemn melody, mournful and cold.
The dancers step lightly, with heavy hearts,
As words lament the demise, their graceful parts.
In the ballroom of sorrow, where shadows sway,
The floor is adorned with petals of gray.
Each step echoes softly, a death knell's toll,
As the dancers mourn the loss of words' soul.
Their elegy resonates through the room,
For language once vibrant, now shrouded in gloom.
The verses weep gently, their meanings untold,
As the waltz carries on, a tale to behold.
The symphony of grief in each whispered breath,
As the dancers glide, embracing their death.
Their movements convey what words cannot say,
In the funereal waltz, they find solace and sway.
The rhythm of sorrow, a delicate embrace,
As the dancers twirl, draped in mourning lace.
With every spin and turn, they honor and dwell,
On the death knell's toll, where words bid farewell.
In this melancholic dance, a requiem's verse,
Words merge with the music, immersed in the hearse.
The funereal waltz weaves a tapestry of pain,
A tribute to the words lost, never to regain.
So, as the dancers dance and mourn, with each solemn refrain,
The death knell tolls, and their elegy remains.
Yasmin Hemmat is an English teacher from Iran. Her work has appeared in Spillwords, Pikerpress, Ravancage Zine, Literary Hatchet, and The Stray Branch.