Thursday, October 11, 2012


Whatever yours is dance to it,
let it sink back
on the amazement of the track,
spreading its stance
in a dance to enhance
the eyes of the land.
Very privately
I am now celebrating my own,
very alone.
In my own den,
sitting still
and letting myself
in my bones.
Listening to an old tune,
time past
“pointing to one end…”
I will pass,
a mood, a nod in whatever tune.
The stream will stay.

1 comment:

Dave King said...

Superb. My first thought was that there is a sadness there. Then I thought not. Perhaps there is, but it did not leave me feeling that way. A poem to enjoy, I thought. Well done, indeed!