Friday 17 April 2015
NaPoWriMo 16
We are slow dancers, scoring life with feet,
leaving in our wake disordered music,
upon a stage where oil and water meet.
Find with pace a tendency to lose it.
Seeking rhythm or some mad alignment,
leaving in our wake disordered music.
Full of weight we tackle our assignment,
track of foot referring to our centre,
seeking rhythm or some mad alignment.
Here a partnership we dare to enter -
skipping hearts that share a kindred step,
track of foot referring to our centre.
But oh, to steal a lead we must misstep.
We are slow dancers, scoring life with feet,
skipping hearts that share a kindred step
upon a stage where oil and water meet.
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