Heart Of The Matter
Tip Toe Round The Moon
Memories wistful,
Gathered through time,
Thoughts left unspoken,
Delivered in mime,
Crossed swords drawn in anger,
The damage undone,
So quickly forgotten,
How wounded the sun,
Yet still as we speak,
How we make our connection,
Suspicious and guarded,
We fear our rejection,
In the cold light of day,
We examine our scene,
So simple, by night,
To step into the dream,
To slip and to glide,
In the arms of a lover,
Once wounded, once bitten,
How soon we recover,
We dance once again,
To an old fashioned tune,
And ever so quietly,
Tip toe round the moon,
The moon weaves the magic,
We're trapped in the spell,
Both now in agreement,
It's heaven; it's hell.
Linda Harnett, ©2007
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Tip Toe Round The Moon
Tip Toe Round The Moon
