Someday, maybe, I'll go back, and, if
She's there, perhaps we'll reenact
The pas de deux we danced, the one
Which left me thinking, I guess wrongly,
That we were in love, and, for a couple
Hours or a couple days, in sunlight,
Moonlight, beneath clouds and trees
And stars, I'll stare into her flawless face.
I'll hear her laugh, and I'll encounter reasons
To believe she cares, until, at last, I see
She doesn't, or I go back home and learn
That our dance didn't matter much,
And only I'm in love.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 98 times
Written on 2019-05-18 at 01:52

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jim The PoetBay support member heart!
It's a delicate dance you're dancing.