You were the focus of our decade quest,
that crown of gold in full confetti spark;
Without compare an angel once was blessed,
yet now cold shadows shroud the lifeless dark.
No dancing lights to guide twice-weekly dance,
nor daily, graceful lilt like butterfly;
what memories we have gives us a chance,
for we hold onto love when loved ones die.
Like two clenched hands of sorrow pressing tight,
a press to wring the bitter from the vine;
with Kelly‘s crown a decade lost from sight,
each passing thunderstorm proposed resign.
With crown in hand our loss abides within,
but now and then, the dancing can begin.
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