Dancers
Published on:
#posts #poetryAll these whirring, vibrant blurs,
this rare and joyous music,
the sensation of breeze over bare skin
as I twirl in the summer sun
dizzy, exhilarated, smiling-
All of that was a fantasy.
A fever dream of a frantic mind.
So why are my eyes damp?
The shadows continue their looping dance
flickering in the flamelight over limestone
I watch them swirl and merge
letting the dream diminish.
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