A Dance

Mike Bell/ August 23, 2016/ www.mikebellpoems.com/ 0 comments

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.

Share this Post

Leave a ReplyCancel reply