He doesn't dance
he swims, beautiful, liquid
immersed, unconscious
in the swirling music.
He sets the hook with
his water colored eyes,
scoops me up
in the silken net
of his arms.
I slip into the stream
of his consciousness,
breathe his breath,
live a lifetime before we
take one step.
Gently he releases me.
I shiver as I shed
my new grown piscine skin,
gasping on the bank,
longing to be a fish again.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment