A Dance

It will slow down,
our promenade,
that we are pacing
to ever-last,

on this dance floor,
where we step,
to a song which
makes you weep;

I’ll hold you after
the last struck chord,
until those notes
are no longer heard,

but without that music
to guide my feet,
from our ballroom
I will have to flee.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.