The Dance

1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (No Ratings Yet)
Loading...

My memory is a Polaroid picture left in the sun.
The scene is discolored and warped,
and I’m left with only an abstract memory
as if I had heard the story second hand.
But in the language of my heart
the events are crystalline.

I scaled the wall of a nervous sheer cliff,
and climbed toward the mountain top revelry.
My fingers gripped the walls with such intensity
that the rocks crumbled in my hands.
Just as I thought I had lost my hold,
and all I wanted to do was hide,
you said yes.

I made my way through the emotional spectrum,
in the time it took us to sway from left to right.
Do you remember when we danced?

1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (No Ratings Yet)
Loading...

5 comments On The Dance

  • khaya mbelekane

    your words are the movement and your tone is the rhytm. i could imagine what you were writting. if i had three thumbs i’d say if only i had four…

  • your words are the movement and your tone is the rhytm. i could imagine what you were writting. if i had three thumbs i

  • your words are the movement and your tone is the rhytm. i could imagine what you were writting. if i had three thumbs i

  • Cristina Brubaker

    Awww!! This poem is so sweet and surreal. Made me smile. 🙂

  • I liked it too much…………………

Comments are closed.