Heart Of The Matter
The Dew Leaves Its Mark
We circle the sun,
Round we go,
Day by day,
And we dance to the moon,
As we venture to play,
Eight beats to the bar,
The tempo is sweet,
And the dew leaves its mark,
On the soles of our feet,
We are, who we are,
Complicated creations,
Love tugs at the heart,
We resolve reservations,
Revived and resplendent,
In moonlight we glow,
Eight beats to the bar,
Play it fast, play it slow,
The rhyme and the rhythm,
Forms part of the story,
We reach ever far,
For our moment of glory,
Rise up to the challenge,
How tempting it seems,
Persuade fragrant flowers,
To blossom in dreams,
The petals so perfect,
So easily crushed,
As we step from the path,
The music is hushed,
Lose out to the rhythm,
We wither in heat,
And the dew leaves its mark,
On the soles of our feet.
Linda Harnett, ©2007
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The Dew Leaves Its Mark
The Dew Leaves Its Mark
