The last dance.A Poem by andrew mitchell
The last dance.
When the parting of love became the last dance, there was no tango; a quick step for her, a slow waltz for him. They both tripped.
© 2016 andrew mitchell |
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Added on August 4, 2016 Last Updated on August 4, 2016 Author
andrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..Writing
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