Conflicting images
of you and I
dance a waltz of morbid glee.

How we were
and how we are
clash in a minor key.

The lights are blinding
in my eyes
your position shifts away from me.

You twirl me ’round
sweep me away
towards a future I can’t see.

The tune is clear
in a distant way
as I’m once again in your embrace.

And the dance goes on
in its ebb and flow
as I spin away from your reach.

© S. McLean 1995


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