the immigrant’s dance macabre

it rained in her heart all night long;
she woke to soaked bed sheets
wondering if those were sad tears of a song
keeping beat to her dance macabre feet.

the snow fell on her bright sarong,
as she wandered in a foreign domain
wondering if those were fearful flakes of a song
keeping beat to a dance macabre insane.

the sleet lashed her like an unruly throng
while she pondered her immigrant fate
wondering if the sleet were slashing sheets of a song
keeping beat to a dance macabre of hate.

so stopped the rain, snow and sleet
but she still moved with dance macabre feet.

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