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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