Dance
she is something I haven't known before
something i walked into without a map
unknown although safe
her eyes seemed to lead the way
I've tried writing about her before
but the words just wont form
it seems they haven't been invented yet
it would be quicker to listen to a cello
singing Beethoven
constructing the words yourself
she drifts in hammocks of falling balloons
feathers closer and closer
I feel the static
it shakes me to a blur
I wait for her bubble to burst
the suspense is incarcerating
I want her to split apart
fill the rippled valleys of my thirsty skin
swim together in our perfect lake
dance beneath the surface of hunting eyes
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| davidmcdonald | 
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