Poetry of a Conlanger

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Glass Dancing (3/20/06)

A gentle thudding,
A softness seeping through the air,
Slowly slowly moving in tune
With the beat of desire.

It’s not a smile in your eyes,
Nor mine, I’m sure.
Just a sensual surety
That everything is where it should be,
From our intertwined hands
To the dust on the floor.

A sudden noise,
And our moment,
Like so much glass,
Is shattered with a crash and murmur of voices.
Impossible to salvage,
Let it lie and take only memories,
Tiny shards among the dust.
Leave the glass as a sparkling reminder
To draw us in again
Next time.


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