The swaying forms of flame birthed
Spectators watch eagerly as do I
Your slow cautious eager approach,
Darkness flickering red orange blue
Framing your white in harvest hue.
The steady beat of terrace doors
To Winter’s whistling breath
Has awakened your knowledge
Of what lies without your
Shadow-ridden fortress weeping
In its loneliness for memories
Crafted long before but no more.
A single silver-based beacon
Guides your sweeping voyage
Across the sea of night which
Confronts your searching forest orbs.
You can feel the presence
Of much much more than idle
Chill firelight storm gloom,
Yet you march forth to seal
Yourself from the emotions
Which lie beyond your chosen sphere.
The doors to your great hall
Close once more to the elements
But it is too late...
The notes of our Rusticana
Grab kiss caress your soul frost,
Warming reviving your loving Mind.
Memories of past waltzes
Reel spin float fly through
Your sadness wrought defenses
And you know I am here...
Here to collect your promised
Gift of parting.
Come into my arms, my love,
For one final waltz ere
What we are have been could be
Passes into the frost shadows storm.
For the last time we are One,
Dancing in this great hall
So sun emotion laughter lit
In the not so distant Past.
But all Light fades too quickly
And our moment dies with the
Fading music, breaths in your presence,
Walks in sunny auspices,
Concerts in the park,
And mist and moonlight over seas...
I turn away from our final waltz
Noting moment, promise fulfilled.
But your touch, strong in its
Grip upon my soul halts
My distancing of Mind.
I gaze into your eyes,
Questioning your intentions
(Hoping not to be harmed by my sight)
And you simply smile warmly.
You draw me back onto the floor
And I know it need not be our final waltz...
